





m 



'^ 



TliE 

FIRESIDE FRIEND, 



OR 



FEMALE STUDENT: 



^ 



BEING 



ADVICE TO YOUNG LADIES ON THE IMPORTANT 
SUBJECT OF 



E D UC A T ION. 

WITH AN APPENDIX, ON 

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION, 

FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME DE SAUSSURE. 



%y,^^ :Xc 



BY MRS. PHELPS, 

LATE VICE-PRINCIPAL OF TROY FEMALE SEMINARY. 



BOSTON: 
MARSH, CAPEN, LYON, AND WEBB. 

1840. "^^ 



\^ 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840, by 

Marsh, Capen, Lyon, and Webb, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



J-f t / % 



/ 



EDUCATION PRESS. 






PREFACE. 



In answering a call to furnish some volumes for ' The 
School Library,' the author offers, first, the following 
revised edition of her ' Lectures to Young Ladies, or 
Female Student.' Being intended as a reading book for 
the domestic circle, or family fireside, she has superadded 
the title of the ' Fireside Friend. ' The call for succes- 
sive editions of this work, in America, go the fact of its 
having been reprinted and extensively circulated in Eng- 
land and Scotland, give the author a confidence, in again 
bringing it befof's that public, whom, not only with her 
pen, but in active efforts in the cause of education, she 
has long served. 



Rahway (N. J.) Female Institute. 
April, 1840. 



I 



CONTENTS 



Page 

Preface, 3 

Introduction, 9 

PART I. 

GENERAL VIEWS OF EDUCATION. 

CHAPTER I. 
The Author's Address to the Young Reader, . . 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Importance of Self Knowledge, — Idle and Careless, 
Gay and Fashionable Persons, , . 17 

CHAPTER III. 
Moral and Religious Persons, 21 

CHAPTER IV. 
Nature and Objects of Education, 26 

CHAPTER V. 
Private and Public Education, 33 

CHAPTER VI. 

Public Schools, 42 

2# 



6 CONTENTS. 

PART II. ' 

PHYSICAL EDUCATION. 

CHAPTER VII. 
Health. — Neatness, 60 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Temperance. — Habits with regard to Dress, and care 
of Clothing. — Curvature of the Spine. — Injuries 
from tight lacing, 62 

PART III. 

INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION, 

CHAPTER IX. 

Division of Mental Faculties. — Mental Discipline. — 
Cultivation of Mental Faculties, 75 

CHAPTER X. 

Spelling. — Articulate Sounds, 84 

CHAPTER XI. 
Reading, 90 

CHAPTER XII. 
Grammar, .96 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Ancient Languages, 103 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Modern Languages. — French, Italian, and Spanish, 
Literature, H^ 

CHAPTER XV. 

Modern Geography. — Ancient Geography, . . . .121 

CHAPTER XVI. 
History, 138 



> 



CONTENTS. 7 

CHAPTER XVII, 

Mythology, 131 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Natural Science. — Astronomy. — Natural Philosophy, 1 65 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Chemistry. — History of Chemistry, 176 

CHAPTER XX. 

Natural History. — Zoology. — Botany, 185 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Mineralogy and Geology, 191 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Mathematics. — Arithmetic. — Algebra. — Geometry, . 209 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
Rhetoric. — Criticism. — Composition, . . . . \ 226 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Logic. — Moral Philosophy. — Intellectual Philosophy, 24 1 



PART IV. 

MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Female Manners. — Music. — Dancing, 257 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Drawing. — Schools of Painting, 269 

PART V. 

TEACHING AND TEACHERS. 

CHAPTER XXVII. . 

Profession of Teaching, 282 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Qualifications of Teachers, 287 



8 CONTENTS. 

PART VI. 

DOMESTIC HABITS. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Personal Activity in Domestic Duties. — Domestic 

Economy, 295 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Connection between Moral Education and the Emo- 
tions, 300 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

The Feelings, on which the IMoral and Religious 
Character is founded, 305 



APPENDIX. 

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION, CONTINUED. 

CHAPTER I. 

Communication of Knowledge. — Nature, considered 
in Itself, and in its Relations with God, . . .311 

CHAPTER II. 

Continuation of the Communication of Knowledge. — 
Nature, considered in its Relations with Man. — 
Preparation for the Moral Sciences, 322 

CHAPTER III. 

Methods of Instruction, 331 

CHAPTER IV. 

Continuation of Means of Instruction. — Emulation, . 337 

CHAPTER V. 
Recapitulation and Conclusion, 347 



INTRODUCTION. 



This Work consists of the following parts : 

1. Preliminary Views on Education in General. 

2. Physical Education. 

3. Intellectual Cultivation. 

4. Manners and Accomplishments. 

5. Teaching and Teachers. 

6. Domestic Habits. — Moral and Religious Education. 
And an Appendix, on Moral and Religious Education. 



The object of this Volume is, to awaken the minds of 
the young to the importance of Education ; and to give 
them just ideas of the nature, design, and practical appli- 
cation, of the various branches of study, pursued in the 
course of a liberal education. 

The writer does not flatter herself, that this will be 
found an attractive book, to those who seek for entertain- 
ment, merely. There will be exhibited no creations of 
the fancy, for the purpose of awakening sympathies, un- 
connected with the destiny or duty of man. Female 
writers have too often followed the leadings of imagina- 
tion, without inquiring, to what end its vagaries would 
tend. The fondness of the sex, for reading works of 
fiction, is proverbial. But are not the authors of such 
works laboring to prepare, for their readers, that kind of 
food, which, so far from rendering the mental system 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

Strong and healthy, disorders and enfeebles it ? Novels 
and poetry are, indeed, the flowers of literature ; they 
afford opportunity for the display of genius, and are pleas- 
ant companions for an idle or heavy hour. They may 
exhibit virtue in an attractive light, and inspire a kind of 
enthusiasm in the reader, to imitate the noble examples 
of heroes and heroines. But I would appeal to the ex- 
perience of every female, who has indulged herself, much, 
in this kind of reading, whether, after the excitement of 
feeling, occasioned by the perusal of some fascinating 
novel, she has returned to the realities of life, with a 
spirit calmed, and prepared to meet its realities with for- 
titude and resignation .'' or whether she has not, at sucli 
times, experienced a distaste, almost amounting to dis- 
gust, for the homely beings with whom reality surrounded 
her, and for the everyday scenes of hfe ? And has it 
not required a strong and painful effort, to regain that 
mental equilibrium, so necessary for prudent conduct and 
amiable deportment ? 

" For yet, alas ! the real ills of life 

Claim the fall vigor of a mind prepared, 
Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife, 
Its guide experience, and truth its guard." 

The virtues, which appear with eclat on the pages of 
jQction, are not the humble, unobtrusive ones of common 
life ; those, which, in reality, demand the greatest efforts, 
and exhibit the best regulated minds ; — the trials, which 
excite our sympathy, in these creations of fancy, are sel- 
dom those of real life. False views are thus given of 
our own duties, and what we ought to expect from others. 

At the time when that wonderful genius, Walter Scott, 
was producing one novel after another, with a rapidity 
with which his readers could scarcely keep pace, a young 
married lady, ^vhose taste strongly inclined hor to works 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

of this nature, but who had abstained from reading them, 
lest they might interfere with her new domestic duties, 
was induced, by the wishes of her husband, to commence 
with him, the Waverly novels, for their evening reading : 
but the pages were far too fascinating to be laid aside, at 
the usual hour for repose ; there was no cessation of in- 
terest, until the volumes were closed. An infant son lay 
in his cradle, beside the mother, who, too conscientious 
to keep an attendant awake for these novel-reading vigils, 
attempted herself to watch the child. But, though quiet, 
he was sometimes hungry ; and Nature admonished him, 
that, in the cold of a Winter's night, he ought to be 
warmed and cherished in a mother's arms, and he would 
sometimes cry ; — perhaps, at the very moment, when 
Jeanie Deans was about to make her eloquent appeal 
to the Queen, the infant would make his plea for a moth- 
er's care. The story must then be broken off, while, with 
a feehng of disappointment, almost amounting to impa- 
tience, the maternal duties were performed. But the 
healthy and beautiful child was seized with an acute dis- 
ease, which terminated in his removal from this world ; 
and, though the mother could not accuse herself of actual 
neglect, she was conscious of having had her thoughts 
too much diverted from her child, by the fictitious scenes 
in which she had permitted her imagination to rove. She 
was wholly unprepared to meet such an affliction ; and, 
turning from novels to her Bible, sought for peace and 
consolation in the promises of Him, who is ''the resur- 
rection and the life." Those books, which had drawn her 
thoughts from her lovely infant, she could not, for a long 
time, endure to behold ; and thenceforward, she renounc- 
ed them all, in the settled conviction, that females, espec- 
ially when young, by indulging in novel-reading, do, in 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

a degree, unfit themselves for the proper discharge of 
their duties. 

Those, who are gifted with the power to influence the 
minds of their fellow-beings, should beware how they 
exert this influence ! Is it enough, that they amuse, as- 
tonish, and delight, mankind ? This, too, the mounte- 
bank or opera-dancer may do. But, as sure as there is 
a future state of existence, so there is a moral influence 
to be exerted by every human being, according to the 
measure of his abilities. And where can this influence 
be more powerfully, more extensively, exercised, than 
through the medium of the press ? Although our voice 
be feeble, yet, if our testimony is on the side of truth, it 
may have an influence on the feeble-minded, even great- 
er than more powerful accents. It will be heard, when 
we shall be removed to another tribunal than that of lit- 
erary criticism, where the flashes of genius are too often 
preferred to the steady light of truth. But, at that great 
tribunal, we shall be judged, according to the motives with 
which we have written, and not the ability with which 
we have executed our task. 



THE FIRESIDE FRIEND, 



OR 



FEMALE STUDENT. 



PART I. 
GENERAL VIEWS OF EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE author's address TO THE YOUNG READER. 

This book is called ' The Fireside Friend^^ because it 
is the author's design to approach, in a still, quiet way, the 
centre-table or the work-stand, that she may discourse to 
the young, of their duties, and induce them to make a wise 
improvement of their time. She wishes to impart to them 
the benefits of her experience ; and, as far as she is capa- 
ble of doing so, point out those paths which will conduct 
them to intellectual and moral excellence. She thus 
hopes to merit the title of friend, more effectually, than if 
she merely proposed to excite laughter, by wit, or amuse 
the imagination, by romantic stories. 

ft is an old adage, that " our best friends are those 
that tell us the truth ;" and the author promises her 
young readers, that, in the following pages, they will meet 
with truth, if not amusement. But the '' female student," 
— she who is earnestly engaged in searching after wisdom, 
as for hid treasures, — will not be disposed to neglect the 
'Fireside Friend,' on account of sober looks and serious 
admonitions. 

2 XVIII. 



14 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

A few years since, the author was, as you may now be, 
looking forward, with joyous delight, to the opening scenes 
of life. They did, indeed, appear bright, at first ; but death 
entered the sanctuary, where were garnered up her hopes 
and her affections, and swept them into the grave. As the 
shipwrecked mariner, after a tempestuous night, awakes 
to the conciousness that he is left to struggle alone upon 
the wide waters, so did she find herself, a solitary being on 
the ocean of life. She would have yielded herself to the 
waves, a waif, or a wreck, with nothing to do, and nothing 
to hope for ; but reason and religion pointed to the harbor 
of usefulness and duty, where may be found that " Peace, 
which the world can neither give, nor take away." 

}( we have nothing to enjoy, in this life, we may al- 
ways find something to do. While there are young minds 
to be trained for a never-ending existence, there can be 
no excuse for suffering any of the faculties to remain 
unemployed. As earthly hopes fade away, there is to 
the eye of faith a brightening of the invisible scenes which 
lie beyond this vale of tears. In those scenes, my young 
friend, may we, whose spirits now hold communion 
through the medium of the written words, meet in joyful 
and happy recognition. 

Let us now proceed to consider the obligations of the 
young, to promote, as far as possible, their own educa- 
tion. Let us also examine the nature of education, and 
the objects which it should have in view. It is of vast 
importance that you should entertain just views of the 
bearing which the ideas you now acquire, and the prin- 
ciples and habits you now form, will have upon your 
happiness. When we behold a group of young and hap- 
py faces, and consider the changes which a few years 
will produce, how many emotions swell the heart. We 
see in the gay, unreflecting girl, the future wife, the moth- 
er, and the candidate for immortality, having power, not 
only over her own destiny, but capable of wielding vast 
influence over other immortal beings. Impressed as these 
solemn realities are upon the minds of your friends, they 
may seem to expect from you too much seriousness and 
reflection, at an age when gayety is so natural. 



ADDRESS TO THE READER. 15 

We would not, indeed, check the cheerfulness of your 
young hearts, or see you sorrowful and desponding. The 
world will but too soon change the buoyancy of youthful 
glee into heaviness. Enjoy, then, this spring time of 
your existence, this morning of life ; but enjoy with mod- 
eration, and spare something from the exuberance of your 
emotions, to soften and cheer the sober and pensive sea- 
son, which, should your lives be spared, will as assured- 
ly follow, as evening follows morning, or as Spring is 
succeeded by Autumn. Should you see a group of hap- 
py children, sporting near the border of some dreadful 
precipice, which they, in their childish glee, heeded not, 
would you think it unkind to check them in their mirth, 
in order to point out their danger ; or, if one should chance 
to have strayed to the verge of the precipice, w^ould you 
hesitate to seize him, even somewhat roughly, in order to 
save him from destruction ? Think it not, then, unkind 
in those, who, by the light of experience, see dangers, to 
you invisible, if they raise a warning voice, and give a 
temporary check to your gayety, to avert evils which they 
see impending over you, or to fortify your minds to bear 
them. For the eye of experience sees, before you, tri- 
als of virtue, affliction, pain, and death. 

All human beings must suffer pain and sorrow ; but on 
woman, do the evils, incident to human existence, fall 
with pecuHar force. Her heart is sensitive, and her spir- 
its easily elated or depressed ; the dehcacy of her nerv- 
ous system subjects her to agitations, to which man, fav- 
ored by greater physical strength, and more firmness of 
nerve, is exempt. Subject to caprice, she needs the bal- 
ance of intellectual discipline ; and, above all, does she 
require the aid of religious principles, to enable her to 
overcome the weakness to which her mind, owing to a 
peculiar physical organization, is liable. 

How much of pain and sickness is the delicate frame 
of woman called to endure ! And, what is still more trying 
to the mind than personal suffering, she must experience 
the anguish of watching over the distresses of others, and 
of witnessing death, in its triumph over the objects of her 
affections. Yes, you whose hearts now beat high with 



16 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

expectation, who are eager to pluck the rosebuds of de- 
light with which the world is tempting you, are to see 
the flowers wither in your hands, and to feel yourselves 
pierced with the thorns which are now concealed from 
your view. You may be destined to watch over the 
couch of sick and dying friends, of parents, brothers, and 
sisters, and, perhaps, to perform the last sad offices for 
some of your companions, who are now before you, glow- 
ing with health and beauty. Some of you will mourn 
over dying children, some will experience the sorrows 
and desolation of widowhood ; and all, sooner or later, 
will taste of death, the common lot of mortals. 

In uttering these predictions, I am not arrogating to 
myself a supernatural foresight ; life, with some slight va- 
riations, will be to you, as to those who have gone be- 
fore you. The smaller circumstances, the filling up of 
the picture, time only will exhibit ; but the outlines are 
too darkly and plainly shaded, not to be manifest to the 
prophetic eye of experience. How many, young and 
happy as you who may peruse these pages, and who, 
like you, were once full of hope and anticipation, have 
gone forth into the world, to prove its vanity and false- 
hood. How many have felt the bitterness arising from 
the consciousness of having bestowed their young affec- 
tions upon unworthy objects ; how many have pined, in 
secret, over a hopeless attachment ; and how many, who, 
after having been flattered and worshipped, as angels, 
have been left, deserted and neglected wives. How ma- 
ny, happily settled in life, have been called to leave their 
beautiful and elegant homes, the arms of fond affection, 
and all the charms of domestic life, and to lie down in 
the grave. The most devoted love, the most extensive 
wealth, 

** Could give no more 
Than earth enough to make her narrow bed." 

Even the young and beautiful, when the seal of death is 
upon her, must be given up to corruption, and the worm 
that " feeds sweetly" upon the once fair proportioned 
body. 

Is there not enough, then, in view of the various trials. 



IMPORTANCE OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 17 

peculiarly incident to woman, and of the final destination 
of all human beings, to bring you to reflection ? And O ! 
that you may, in the retirement of your closets, lift up 
your hearts in prayer, and beseech your heavenly Father 
to fit you for the performance of your duties in life, and 
the patient suffering of trials, by which you are to be pu- 
rified, and made meet for a holier and happier world ! 

" Woman's lot is on you ! silent tears to weep. 
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, 
And sumiess riches from affection's deep 
To pour on broken reeds — a wasted shower ! 
And to make idols, and to find them clay, 
And to bewail that worship ! therefore pray ! 
Earth will forsake ! O ! happy to have given 
The unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven." 



CHAPTER II. 



IMPORTANCE OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. IDLE AND CARELESS, 

GAY AND FASHIONABLE, PERSONS. 

It is of great importance that the young should under- 
stand their own characters, the motives which are now 
most powerful in influencing their conduct, and the prep- 
arations they are making for futurity. And yet, how of- 
ten are they careless respecting the seeds which may be 
taking root in their minds ! What should we think of 
a farmer, who was either idle in Spring, or indifferent 
whether good seed, or such as would bring forth useless, 
noxious weeds, were sown upon his grounds ? And yet, 
what is the product of a farm, compared with the fruits 
of the human mind ? — the former, like all worldly goods, 
transient and perishable ; the latter, treasured up in the 
great record of human actions, and destined to endure for 
eternity. 

Let each young person ask herself, for what purpose 
am I placed in this world, and how am I improving my 
time and advantages ? After strict examination, let con- 
science make her report ; and happy indeed are those 
2* 



18 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

who will not stand self-accused at that tribunal of moral 
feeling, which the Almighty has established in your own 
minds for the regulation of your conduct. 

Some of my young readers may think me severe, in 
the remarks which I shall now make ; but the physician 
must consider the nature of maladies, in order to point 
out the remedies. Were you morally diseased, without 
any means of cure, I '' would lay my hand upon my 
mouth," and utter no words of reproach to a misery so 
hopeless. But a renovating principle is ever ready to 
operate, if human beings will yield themselves to its influ- 
ences. Conscience, like a faithful monitor, is ever warn- 
ing us of Our danger, and Divine grace is given, to guide 
us in the path of virtue and happiness. 

How many young persons are idle and careless, think- 
ing only of present gratification ! They may have been 
nursed in the lap of affluence and ease, and accustomed, 
from infancy, to all the gratifications which parental fond- 
ness, aided by wealth, could bestow : alas ! how little 
does the doating parent reflect, when tenderly nurturing a 
beloved child, that he may be administering a slow poi- 
son, which will infuse itself through the whole moral sys- 
tem, and, in future years, render this child imbecile and 
degraded ! 

Luxury has an injurious effect upon our moral natures. 
Do you doubt this ^ Look into the history of nations and 
of individuals, and you will see them almost uniformly, in 
the end, corrupted by luxury. The Romans were virtu- 
ous, until enriched by the spoils of vanquished nations. 
Our own ancestors, in the primitive poverty and simplic- 
ity of the early days of our country, showed themselves 
capable of high and noble actions. Their descendants, 
enriched by trade, commerce, and manufactures, are, it 
is to be feared, degenerating from the lofty character 
which was exhibited in the fathers of the Revolution, and 
their unostentatious wives and sisters. And yet, wealth 
does not, necessarily, corrupt the mind ; when properly 
used, it furnishes the means of doing good to others ; 
and of assisting to promote the noble designs of such as 
possess great benevolence, without the pecuniary means 



IMPORTANCE OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 10 

of carrying their plans into effect. Wealth enables its 
possessors to purchase valuable books ; to visit interes- 
ting works of Nature and Art ; and to gain assistance 
from the talents and information of others. It also be- 
stows the leisure for mental cultivation. 

How unhappy is the mother whose daughters are idle 
and careless ! If she is herself desirous of maintaining 
order in the family, and seeing every one usefully em- 
ployed, how much chagrin must she constantly experience, 
when she beholds her daughters spending their time in idly 
lounging about, carelessly dressed, and ready to make their 
escape on the arrival of company ! The fireside is not 
rendered neat and cheerful by their care, nor is the mother 
relieved of her arduous duties, by their kind attentions. 
The idle and careless young lady may be fond of reading, 
and may weep over the imaginary sorrows of a heroine, 
while she is insensible to the real afflictions of a tender 
mother. She may fancy herself lovely and interesting, 
and believe, that fine dress will cover her defects ; but 
will not conscience often sting her with reproaches, and 
her own judgement pronounce her a useless and unworthy 
character ? Shake off, then, my young friend, your hab- 
its of indolence ; and, " springing from the bed of sloth," 
commence, in season, the duties of the day. When you 
have ceased to be idle, you will no longer be careless ; 
for the former quality is necessarily accompanied by the 
latter. Industry will enable you to accompHsh many 
things, which the idle are always complaining that they 
can never find time to do. You can write letters to your 
absent friends, examine and repair your own wardrobe, 
and assist in the cares of the household. The industri- 
ous can always find time to do for themselves and others ; 
the idle, though doing nothing, are always complaining of 
want of time. 

The idle and careless pupil is a continual trouble to her 
teachers. She has always to make excuses ; — she has had 
no time to learn her lesson, or she had forgotten where it 
was. She neither learns, herself, nor is willing that oth- 
ers should do so. In her classes, she is inattentive and 
trifling, and disturbs those who are desirous of improve- 



20. THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ment. What must be the future character of such a 
young person ? If she have vveahh, she will be frivolous 
and vain ; neither commanding respect from her inferiors 
in station, nor gaining the love and esteem of her equals. 
If she be poor, she will be wretched, herself, and burden- 
some to others, — a miserable and helpless woman. 

There is another class of girls, whom we may denomi- 
nate the gay and fashionable^ though these may also be- 
long to the division we have just considered. They may 
be industrious and careful, in respect to those things which 
will make a good appearance in the world, but their fire- 
side knows little of domestic happiness ; for every thing, 
with them, is done for display. Their faults are often to 
be attributed to the false notions of their parents, and some- 
times to the persons to whom their parents have intrusted 
the care of their education. What a cruel disappoint- 
ment, for a parent, who has anxiously awaited the return 
of a daughter from an expensive school, where he had 
hoped she was preparing herself to be a comfort and hon- 
or to her family, to find her a mere fashionable young 
lady, with no energy or spirits but for display ! Such a 
one, in company, may exert herself to be agreeable, but 
alone, with her parents, brothers, and sisters, she is indif- 
ferent or peevish. She, who was a butterfly in society, is 
a drone or a wasp in the domestic circle. 

Unfortunately, there are many young girls, whose high- 
est object, in the attainment of an education, is to enable 
themselves to shoio off^ in circles of fashion ; to seem to 
be amiable and learned, instead of being so. We often 
see such, exhibiting, in the pursuit of certain branches of 
education, a becoming diligence ; they are faithful to their 
lessons, in music, dancing, and drawing ; and, stimula- 
ted by the wish of making a figure at public examinations, 
they are sometimes found among the best scholars in lite- 
rary branches, while they are remiss in the performance of 
moral duties. They are usually wanting in meekness 
and lowliness of mind. If a schoolmate is unfashionable 
in her dress, or rustic in her manners, she meets with 
their neglect ; or, if a teacher, occupied with higher ob- 
jects than personal decoration, appears dressed in a man- 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS PERSONS. 21 

ner not correspondent with the latest fashions, too often 
do this class of pupils show their standard of merit, by 
pertness and disrespect. Perhaps in no country is there 
more of a disposition to affect fashion and style, than in 
our own. In Paris, the metropolis of the fashionable 
world, the laborers, shopkeepers, and mechanics, are con- 
tent with appearing to be what they are. They do not 
assume to be in what is called good society^ (which, by 
the way, is often a very misplaced term.) They have 
their holydays, in which they sport their finery ; but they 
are usually industrious, and have no idea of wishing to be 
thought able to live without labor. But with our females 
there is too much of a disposition to seem above work, 
and to appear to move in the first circles, whatever may 
be their real rank in life. An American female would be 
very unw^illing to say, " I do not associate with such and 
such persons, they are in a circle above that in which 1 
move." Yet an English lady of fortune and education 
would not hesitate to say, when questioned about Al- 
macks,* " I was not admitted there ;" or, respecting cer- 
tain persons of the nobility, " I had no access into their 
circle." This state of things is unhappy for our country. 
We should be ashamed of living above our means, and 
appearing fine and genteel, when honest industry would 
become our real condition. 



CHAPTER III. 

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS PERSONS. 

We would hope better of our young readers, than to 
suppose that they belong to either of the classes which we 
have named in the preceding chapter. We trust that they 
are industrious and careful, and have too much real ele- 
vation of character to be ashamed of plain dress or plain 
furniture, if their circumstances in life require them to 
use economy. A young girl, whom I once knew, was 

* A resort for people of high fashion. 



22 THE FliJESIDE FRIEND. 

very ambitious to rise into the first society in the country. 
She was the daughter of a plain farmer, who was a man 
of study and education ; but this young girl fancied there 
was, in circles above them, more refinement and eleva- 
tion, than she was accustomed to ; and when, turning her 
spinning-wheel, or milking the cows, she saw people pas- 
sing by in their coaches, she thought they must be like 
the noble Sir Charles Grandison, the elegant Lord Or- 
ville, or the all-accomplished heroines of the novels she 
had read. She sighed for a coach and for high rank, 
that she might become refined, and associate with those 
who were so ; but when, in afterlife, circumstances led 
her to mingle in circles of fashion, she found that igno- 
rant and vulgar people sometimes ride in coaches, and that 
many^ne ladies have very coarse and unrefined ideas. 
True, indeed, are the words of the poet : 

*' Honor and shame from no condition rise." 

We will hope, my young friends, that you are imbued 
with virtuous principles, and a desire to do right : That 
you are anxious to learn, and perform your duty. Per- 
haps you are one, of whom all, who know you, speak 
well. You may, therefore, imagine that you are very 
good ; and, like the young man, who, after recounting his 
virtues to our Saviour, complacently asked, " What lack 
I yet ?" you may suppose you are fulfilling all the com- 
mandments. But, after all that you can do, you will find, 
on examining yourself by the word of God, that you fall 
short of your duty, and need pardon and forgiveness. 
Mere morality is not sufficient to entitle us to the hopes 
of the gospel. You must ingraft on your virtues the love 
of God, you must sincerely devote yourself to Him, that 
you may be truly happy in this world and that which is to 
come. 

If you have found joy and peace in believing, you have 
entered upon life under happy prospects. You rejoice 
in the confident hope that you are heir to a heavenly in- 
heritance, incorruptible, and that can never fade away. 
But your responsibility is great, and great should be your 
care and watchfulness. 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS PERSONS. 23 

Your example may incite others to seek that religion 
which they see producing, in you, good fruits ; or it may 
disgust them, if accompanied with forbidding and unpleas- 
ant manners. The question should often arise, " How 
may I best adorn the religion I profess ?" You may be 
surrounded by gay and thoughtless companions, who can- 
not appreciate your motives of action ; and it may seem 
questionable, whether you should not wholly withdraw 
yourselves from society, rather than incur the hazard of 
lowering your own standard of duty, or of losing your 
own seriousness, amid surrounding levity. 

The Scriptures, indeed, command Christians to come 
out from the world, and to separate themselves from it. 
Yet our Saviour himself familiarly associated with publi- 
cans and sinners. He went to their entertainments, and 
conversed with them, in public places. At Cana of 
Galilee, we find Him attending a wedding, and promoting 
the festivities of the occasion, by miraculously changing 
water into wine. The Pharisees, indeed, reproach Him 
for these things ; they follow Him, in his hours of social 
intercourse, and point the finger of scorn, because He 
associates with sinners. Yet the meek and humble Jesus 
is not deterred from his purpose. We see Him seated, 
not among a few, who already esteem themselves righ- 
teous, but with the multitude ; we hear Him, in mild and 
gentle accents, telling them to knock, and the door of 
mercy shall be opened, to ask and they shall receive, 
to repent and they shall be forgiven, to go in peace and 
sin no more. His kind and attractive manner first draws 
the heart towards Him, and then to the doctrine which 
He teaches. 

We are not, then, to suppose that our Saviour intended 
his followers should separate themselves from the world, 
by ceasing to hold intercourse with it ; we cannot believe 
that the Christian is in the performance of his highest du- 
ty, by withdrawing from the world, and avoiding the so- 
ciety of his fellow-men, in order to give his heart wholly 
to God and the services of religion. 

How, then, you may ask, is the Christian to separate 
himself from the world ? We answer, by piety, meekness, 



24 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

and readiness to do good to others, and in all things to adorn 
his profession ; it is thus that he should distinguish, or 
separate himself, being " while in, above the world." You 
need not fear to follow the example of your Saviour, who 
mixed with the multitude, that He might do them good ; 
and, although you have not the power of working miracles, 
you may do much towards healing the moral diseases of 
the thoughtless, by seeking occasions to give them good 
counsel, and proving, by your own conduct, that the ways 
of wisdom " are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 
are peace." 

Did Christians properly consider their obhgations to let 
their " light so shine before men" that others, seeing their 
"good works," might "glorify their Father who is in heav- 
en," their influence might be much more extensively felt. 
Some yield too much to the example of the merely fash- 
ionable, the gay, and the trifling ; and, instead of firmly 
standing upon the ground of Christian duty, and refusing to 
countenance anything contrary to Christian obligation, they 
seem almost fearful of being recognised as professors of 
religion, and, with the disciple who denied his Lord, to say 
by their practice, we " know not the man." Others, dis- 
gusted with the world, coldly turn away from it, and thus 
gain the reputation of being morose and unamiable. 

That you may be useful to the world, you must make 
yourself agreeable ; join in innocent recreations, and do 
not despise external graces, or a suitable attention to dress 
and accomphshments. Be mild and courteous, dignified 
and exemplary, and you will command an influence which 
neither wealth nor fashion can gain ; an influence over the 
hearts of those around you, and thus have it in your power 
10 arouse the idle and careless to a sense of duty, to en- 
force upon the gay and thoughtless higher and better mo- 
tives, and to convince those, who depend merely on a 
cold morality, that human virtue is but a shadow, when 
unaccompanied by religious affections. 

St. Paul, like his Divine Master, became " all things to 
all men," that he " might by all means save some." "Nev- 
er," says an English writer,* "was man more deeply 

* Rev. H. F. Burder. 



NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 25 

versed than he, in the knowledge of the ways which lead 
to the human heart ; and never was man more disposed 
by principle and by feeling, to apply that knowledge to the 
benevolent purpose of opening the heart to the influence 
of the truth which saves and sanctifies. Who would at- 
tempt to portray the character of Paul, (or who would 
recognise the hkeness, if attempted,) without the kindness, 
the gentleness, the suavity, and sympathy, which he him- 
self copied from the model of absolute perfection ?" May 
you, my young Christian friends, in these respects, imitate 
St. Paul, even as he imitated Christ. 



CHAPTER IV. 

NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 

The true end of education is to prepare the young for 
the active duties of life, and to enable them to fill with 
propriety those stations, to which, in the providence of 
God, they may be called. This includes, also, a prepar- 
ation for eternity ; for we cannot live well, even in this 
world, without those dispositions of heart which are neces- 
sary to fit us for heaven. To discharge aright the duties 
of life, requires, not only that the intellect shall be en- 
lightened, but that the heart shall be purified. A mother 
does not perform her whole duty, even when, in addition 
to providing for the wants of her children, and improving 
their understanding, she sets before them an example of 
justice and benevolence, of moderation in her own desires, 
and a command over her own passions : this may be all 
that is required of a heathen mother ; but the Christian 
female must go with her little ones to Jesus of Nazareth, 
to seek his blessing ; she must strive to elevate the 
minds of her offspring by frequent reference to a future 
state ; she must teach them to hold the world and its pur- 
suits in subserviency to more important interests, and to 
prize, above all things, that peace which, as the world 
giveth not, neither can it take away. 

3 XVIII. 



26 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Thus comprehensive is education ; it consists in train' 
ing the body to healthful exercises^ and elegant accom- 
plishments^ in cultivating and developing the mental 
powers^ in regulating the passions, and, above all, in 
forming religious habits. M. JuHen, in his ' Essai Gen- 
eral d'Education,' says, " Education is an apprenticeship 
for life ; its true end, like that of existence, is well-being 
or happiness. But, although all men, either by reflection 
or instinct, seek this end, ahhough all desire to be happy, 
most are ignorant of what happiness really consists in, what 
are the elements w^hich compose it, and the means of ob- 
taining it. Reason, observation, and experience, appear 
to point out three essential and necessary elements of hap- 
piness, — health of body, cultivation of intellect, and eleva- 
tion of soul." 

Many appear to think that the whole business of a 
teacher is to impart instruction in the different branches 
of learning. But this is far from being the most anxious 
concern of him who realizes the importance of early dis- 
cipline of the passions, and of early associations upon the 
moral character. Instruction, or the communication of 
literary and scientific knowledge, is, indeed, but a small 
part of education ; for a person may be learned, and yet 
have been v^ery badly educated. The great thing is, for the 
young to become fitted for the various exigencies of life ; 
and had those, who have the care of your education, a fore- 
knowledge of your future situation in life, they might di- 
rect you very differently from what they now do. But, 
uncertain as are the events of this changing world, it is not 
possible to be certain which of your attainments in litera- 
ture and science, or which of your personal accomplish- 
ments, will be most useful to you hereafter ; or whether 
these are to be exercised only for the improvement and 
delight of the social circle, or to be the means of gaining 
your own support, and that of others, who may be depen- 
dent upon you. 

How many females, who once cherished the expecta- 
tion of filling a splendid station in life, have been reduced 
to the necessity of exerting their talents, to gain a subsis- 
tence ! You are, probably, acquainted with some such ; 



NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 27 

you may, perhaps, have heard it remarked, that iheir tri- 
als, by throwing them upon their own Tesources, had de- 
veloped the latent powers of their minds, and rendered 
their characters more interesting and valuable. Those, 
who now enjoy prosperity, may have no fear that their 
situations will ever change ; they may not conceive the 
possibihty of suffering those reverses which they witness 
in others. But, riches are proverbially fleeting ; a storm 
at sea may wreck the freighted vessel, on which their 
wealth depends ; fire may consume their property ; the 
failures of others may involve them ; the channels of trade 
may be diverted ; manufacturing interests may dechne, or 
landed estates may sink in value ; — upon these, and a 
thousand other chances, does the uncertain tenure of 
worldly wealth depend. 

Some of my young readers may expect distinction, on 
account of friends high in official stations ; but, long be- 
fore you are prepared to take an active part in life, they 
may have sunk into obscurity. In this country, of all 
others, the distinction which arises from pubhc offices is 
the most transient and uncertain. We see a man holding 
the highest offices in the government, and his family court- 
ed and flattered on account of the power and influence 
which this gives him. But this same individual, by a 
change of pubhc sentiment, or some new movement of the 
political machine, is soon deprived of his honors, his fam- 
ily are neglected and forgotten, while their pretended 
friends are bustling onwards to pay their court to the ris- 
ing fortunes of another, who becomes, for his short hour, 
"lord of the ascendant." 

How important, then, that you should provide your- 
selves with resources against a day of change ! These 
resources you may now secure, in the attainment of that 
knowledge, and those accomplishments, which the pres- 
ent means of your parents may place within your reach. 
The above suggestions should also induce those, who 
possess present advantages, to treat with attention such as 
are less favored by fortune, but who deserve respect for 
their morals and talents, and whose friendship may, at 
some future period, confer honor and distinction. 



28 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

There may be, among my readers, some who have 
early tasted afllictiou, and to whom adversity is familiar. 
You may have been accustomed to regard yourselves as 
destined to glide througfi life in obscurity, unnoticed, and 
unknown. But the tempest may have bowed you to the 
earth only that you may arise strengthened and invigora- 
ted. You have seen a slender plant drooping its head 
and lying low beneath the hlast ; but the storm passed, 
and the plant raised itself up, exhibiting new verdure and 
strength. Even so it may be with you, when the clouds 
which darken your young days shall clear away, and a 
brighter sky reveal to you paths of usefulness and honor. 
In your future prosperity, you may be able to assist by 
your bounty, and honor by your notice, many who now 
pass by you with neglect. Take courage, then, and re- 
member, that every one is, in a degree, the " artificer of 
his own fortune." 

Can we find no cause why the children of the rich, set- 
ting out in life under the most favorable circumstances, 
often sink into insignificance, while their more humble com- 
petitors, struggling against obstacles, rise higher and high- 
er, till they become elevated, in proportion to their former 
depression ? Have we never beheld a plant grow weak 
and sickly from excess of care, while the mountain pine, 
neglected, and exposed to fierce winds and raging tem- 
pests, took strong root, and grew into a lofty tree, delight- 
ing the eye by its strength and beauty ? If we look into 
our State legislatures, our National Congress, and the 
highest executive and judicial offices in the country, we 
do not find these places chiefly occupied by those who 
were born to wealth, or early taught the pride of aristo- 
cratic distinctions. Most of the distinguished men of our 
country have made their own fortunes ; most of them be- 
gan life, knowing that they could hope for no aid or pat- 
ronage, but must rely solely upon the energies of their 
own minds, and the blessing of God. 

Ask the officers of our colleges, and other seminaries 
of learning for boys, which of their students are most dis- 
tinguished for morality and talents ; — they will not, gen- 
erally speaking, point to the sons of the rich and the great, 



NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 29 

to those who feel that they already possess sufficient re- 
commendations to the favor of the world : no, we shall 
be told that the highest places are often filled by stu- 
dents, who are struggling against difficulties in the acqui- 
sition of that intellectual wealth which they prize above all 
earthly blessings, and by means of which they hope to 
render themselves respected and useful. Similar facts 
may be witnessed in female institutions ; nor need we look 
beyond their walls, to see instances of minds debased and 
enervated by the consciousness of wealth, and the idea that 
this alone can procure honor and respect. But can her 
companions feel esteem for one, who, spending her time 
in idleness, exhibits, in her conversation and school exer- 
cises, a vacant intellect ? And when she goes into the 
world, to mingle with the wise and intelligent, will her 
money compensate for her want of knowledge .'' Though 
her society may be courted by the mercenary, she cannot 
but perceive the motives which influence them. Could 
we see the hearts of many who live in splendor, and who 
may be regarded with envy by the covetous, we should 
see them writhing under the mortifying consciousness of 
their inferiority. 

Some of you may be ready to exclaim, is wealth then a 
curse, and are we to esteem ourselves less fortunate than 
if we were poor .'' We would not teach you to be un- 
grateful for the blessings bestowed by Providence ; for 
as blessings should you consider wealth and honorable 
connections : but you should remember, too, that superi- 
or privileges lay upon you greater responsibilities. When 
we find wealth little prized for its own sake, and valued 
chiefly for the opportunities it affords of acquiring knowl- 
edge, and rendering its possessor useful, we then feel a 
true respect for its possessor. 

We perceive how wide and extended a field is that of 
education, involving, as it does, the temporal and eternal 
interests of the young. " Get wisdom,^^ says the wise 
king of Israel ; '' and, with all thy getting, get understand- 
j-jjQ. jj "When icisdom entereth into thine heart, and 
knoioledge is pleasant unto thy soul, discretion shall pre- 
serve thee, understanding shall keep thee." They " will 
3* 



30 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

hear and increase in learning^'''' and they that have '* un- 
derstanding shall attain unto wise counsels.'*'' '^ The knowl- 
edge of wisdom shall be sweet unto thy soul ; when thou 
hast found it, then there shall be a reward., and thy ex- 
pectation shall not be cut o^." The knowledge which 
you are to gain is as various as are the works of God, and 
the laws which govern these works. The wisdom, of 
which the sacred writer speaks, implies something more 
than the knowledge of human sciences ; — the control and 
right direction of our passions, the knowledge of our own 
hearts, and, above all, the knowledge of God, constitute 
true wisdom. 

While you are making acquisitions in the various 
branches of study, or, in other words, gaining knowledge, 
do not neglect to seek that wisdom, without which, knowl- 
edge is worse than useless. Talents and learning w-ith- 
out wisdom are like fire, or instruments of death, in the 
hand of a madman ; desolation and destruction to all that 
is good and truly valuable, in morals and religion, mark 
the progress of those whose minds are thus unbalanced. 
They are the moral Siroccos* which, with blighting in- 
fluence, occasionally sweep over the intellectual world. 
How gloomy, to behold a human being, employing the 
high powers of a lofty intellect in cursing his fellow- 
beings, by leading them insidiously from the paths of 
virtue, or, with the boldness of the fallen angels, openly 
daring the Almighty, by trampling on his laws, and cal- 
ling on others to follow the same impious career ! Many 
are the infectious ))ages which come to us, stamped with 
the seal of genius, and adopted as the favorites of fashion. 
Talents are too blindly worshipped, and the fearful ten- 
dency of works of genius is often unseen, anjid the splen- 
did coruscations of intellect which accompany them. But 
the lightning is not less dreadful for its brilliancy, nor the 
Kalmiaf less poisonous for the splendid beauty of its color- 

* The Sirocco is a pestilential wind, which blows across the Medi- 
terranean, from the deserts of Africa and Asia, towards Italy. 

t The name of a genus of beautiful, but in some cases poisonous, ev- 
ergreen shrubs, nntivos of North Americ:i, and called nlso laurel. The 
name was given in honor of its discoverer, Professor Kalm, a Swedish 
Botanist, who spent three years in America, collecting plants, &c. 



NATURE AND OBJECTS OF EDUCATION. 31 

ing. Far better is it to live and die in humble medioc- 
rity, than to shine, only to mislead ; to exhibit great pow- 
ers of inind, only to show the abuse of them. It is of 
infinite importance that moral improvement should keep 
pace with intellectual attainments ; that the treasures of 
knowledge may conduce to the good of society, and of 
the gifted individual who possesses ihem. 

Our great object should be to consider, how we may 
best attain those qualifications which will fit us for the 
duties of life, and for enjoying happiness hereafter. You, 
my young readers, are gifted by the great Creator of 
mankind with rational and immortal minds. But a few 
years ago, you were thoughtless and gay children. You 
do not remember when you first began to think ; that pe- 
riod is involved in as much mystery as the darkness of 
the grave. The dawning of the human intellect, like that 
of the natural day, is gradual and undefined. Memory, 
straying in the twilight of childhood, imperceptibly finds 
herself lost in the darkness of infancy. That children 
think much, and admire the bright and beautiful objects 
around them, long before they can by words express the 
operations of their minds, is plainly seen ; we have no 
reason, however, to believe that infants are moral agents. 
It is when the child begins to inquire, " What am I ? 
who made me ? for what purpose am I created .'"' that he 
becomes an accountable being. 

The child looks upwards, and beholds the glorious sun 
and moon, the brilliant canopy of heaven glittering with 
its spangled myriads ; he looks upon the earth, and sees 
the majestic mountain and the expanse of waters; he 
beholds the sweet flowers, which seem to speak to his 
heart by their fragrance, no less than to delight his eyes 
by their beautiful and delicate coloring ; he contemplates 
the towering oak, and the verdant carpet beneath his feet ; 
he listens, and his ear brings to his soul the rush of wa- 
ters, the dashing of the ocean, the murmur of the rivulet, 
and the gentle sighing of the breeze. The animal crea- 
tion fills his heart witli joy ; the singing of birds, the meek- 
ness of some domesiic animals, and the swiftness and 
beauty of others, all strike his observant mind. But 



32 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

with still more interest does he view the intelligent beings 
around him. 

That lovely and patient one, whose smiles kindled the 
first emotion in his young heart, whose gentle bosom had 
been his pillow, in suffering and in joys ; the many kind 
friends, who have been wont to administer to his wants j 
all are around him, and he feels that it is pleasant to be 
alive, to experience so much kindness, to behold so many 
grand and beautiful objects, and to enjoy wiihin himself 
the sportive glee of his heart, and the bounding elasticity 
of his young limbs. 

A few more years, and the season of childhood is over ; 
the splendid beauties of the intellectual world then dawn 
upon the youth, and his heart beats high with new and de- 
lightful emotions. New connections are formed, which 
give to life a new charm, and promise lasting felicity. 
New hopes are awakened, new plans formed, and the 
grand drama of life opens with activity and expectation. 

But again the scene changes. Youdi is merged into 
middle age ; its brilliant anticipations have been succeed- 
ed by sober, perhaps melancholy, realities ; friends of 
former years are gone ; death has taken some, and the 
chilling influence of the world has blighted the affections 
of others. The man is pained by the consciousness, that 
his own heart has lost something of the warmth and noble 
generosity of youth, while a cautious and calculating pru- 
dence has become its substitute. 

But the period of activity is now^ gone . It is the or- 
der of Nature, that maturity shall be followed by decay ; 
the frame loses its vigor ; the silver locks, the dim eye, 
and the tottering step, mark the period of old age. Na- 
ture herself seems to be growing old ; the sun has risen 
upon many troublesome days, and the moon has witnes- 
sed wearisome nights. He turns from these things, which 
remind him of his frequent disappointments, and, sighing, 
exclaims, "O ! that I had wings like a dove ; then would 
I flyaway, and be at rest !" Death, which had once ap- 
peared so terrible, is now by the aged Christian welcomed 
as the harbinger of peace, as the entrance into a new scene 
of existence, where friends will never part, nor know dis- 



PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 33 

trust ; where, sinless and happy, all tlie better feelings of 
the heart will strengthen and expand, until man shall be- 
come perfect and glorious, as the angels now are. 

Since such is our destination, to live on earth a few 
revolving seasons, and then to die, and to be renewed in 
a state of never-ending existence, let this truth be deep- 
ly and indelibly imprinted on our minds, — that holiness 
alone can yield pure happiness, and fill the soul with 
peace. 



CHAPTER V. 

PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 

Much has been said and written on the most proper 
mode of conducting female education ; some have conten- 
ded that girls should be wholly brought up under the watch- 
ful eye of maternal care ; while others have considered 
the emulation, which springs up where there is rivalship, 
to be important, if not necessary, to the full developement 
of the mental powers. But, whether a young lady remain 
with her mother, during the period allotted for her educa- 
tion, or whether, at a suitable age, she go abroad, her char- 
acter will depend much upon that of her parent. The 
daughter's ideas of dress, of expense, of what qualities 
are to be most respected and valued in others, and her 
rehgious impressions, all will, in some degree, take their 
color from this earliest guide. 

Of all others, a tuother seems the most proper person to 
superintend the education of a young female. The ma- 
ternal watch is vigilant and active ; none else can feel the 
deep and anxious solicitude which marks a mother's care; 
and yet this very anxiety, by becoming too intense, may 
be injurious to the child. The quick imagination of the 
parent seizes upon the most trifling indications of future 
character, and she is alternately agonized with fear, or 
delighted with hope. These strong emotions are some- 
times unfavorable to a steady and even course of educa- 



34 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

lion ; for as one or the other feeling prevails, there is dan- 
ger of trifling actions becoming the subjects of inadequate 
blame or praise. 

In the shade of domestic life, and under the care of a 
wise mother, a young female might be expected to bloom 
forth, lovely and intelligent, and thoroughly prepared for 
the discharge of the various duties of life. This idea has 
been a favorite one with the poet and novelist, who have 
delighted in painting their heroines as combining the sim- 
plicity of infancy with the most court-like and elegant 
manners ; as entirely ignorant of all that is evil in the 
woj-ld, and yet knowing all of it that is valuable ; as am- 
iable and docile, without ever having suffered restraint ; as 
generous and disinterested, and yet accustomed only to be 
indulged and caressed. Now this is absurd ; to know the 
world, one must have intercourse with it ; and the young 
girl, always kept at home, is awkward and constrained 
in her manners, and often selfish and unamiable in her dis- 
position. Her mother may have moved in the most re- 
fined circles, and be intimately acquainted with the forms 
and customs of polite intercourse ; she may have been 
faithful in imparting this knowledge ; but mere rules, in this 
case, are of as little use, as it would be for a pupil to study 
the theory of drawing and music, without practice. Sel- 
fishness, pride, and conceit, are also fostered in the mind 
of one accustomed to feel herself the great centre of at- 
traction, and to consider every one around her as subser- 
vient to her pleasure. 

With respect to literary improvement, it may be 
thought that the quiet of domestic life is peculiarly favor- 
able. We will suppose the mother herself to be entirely 
competent to instruct in all necessary branches of female 
education. Is it certain, that she will have the requisite 
time, for superintending her daughter's education, and 
conducting it on those systematic principles, which will 
insure a suitable attention to each department of knowl- 
edge .'' The mother, however competent she may be 
to the task, however anxious to devote herself to her 
daughter's improvement, has many other claims upon her, 
than those of maternal duty. As a wife, she must share 



PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 35 

in the cares and anxieties of her husband ; as mistress of 
a family, she must direct its internal concerns ; and this 
alone might render it difficult for her to give that exclu- 
sive attention to literary subjects, which is necessary for 
an instructer. Society, too, has its claims ; and her time 
is always liable to be taken up with a friendly visit, a cere- 
monious call, or an appeal to charity ; these interruptions 
break in upon the regularity of the prescribed systematic 
division of time, and the pupilj feeling it very uncertain 
that her lesson will, if learned, be heard, relaxes her dil- 
igence, and acquires a habit of idleness and procrastina- 
tion. We have said nothing of the claims that younger 
children may have upon the mother's care, or of various 
other indispensable duties ; but enough has been observed, 
to show how very difficult it must be for the most intelli- 
gent and energetic woman, charged with a variety of cares, 
to bestow that time and attention upon a daughter's edu- 
cation, which is necessary for the successful cultivation of 
the youthful mind. 

I have seen the attempt made, by an energetic and judi- 
cious woman, whose pecuniary circumstances being some- 
what embarrassed, and who, entertaining no very favorable 
opinion of public schools, resolved to educate her daugh- 
ter. I had known this lady, in her youth, and seen her the 
admiration and pride of society : I did not see her again, 
until her eldest daughter was about sixteen. How great 
was my astonishment, to behold in this daughter, an awk- 
ward, ignorant girl, with less polish of manners, and less 
information, than is ordinarily possessed by children of 
ten years of age, accustomed to associate with other chil- 
dren, and enjoying the advantages of ordinary schools. 
All who know any thing of instructing, are aware of the 
time and patience which is requisite, even for teaching a 
child its letters ; add to this, reading, spelling, writing, 
geography, grammar, arithmetic, and so on, to the higher 
branches of education, and it will not appear strange that 
this lady, with an extensive circle of acquaintance, and 
several younger children, should have failed in her attempt 
to educate her daughter. Seeing, at length, the impossi- 
bility of success answerable to her wishes, she placed her 



36 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

daughter at a boarding-school ; but the confirmed irregu- 
larity of her habits was unfavorable to improvement, and 
rendered irksome the systematic rules to which she was 
subjected. She felt, too, the need of those indulgences 
which home afforded, and which had greatly tended to 
render her intellect dull and torpid. From these circum- 
stances, rather than any natural inferiority of mind, her 
improvement was not creditable, either to herself or to 
those under whose care she was placed. 

But may not parents provide private teachers for their 
children, and thus keep them under their own observa- 
tion ? Doubtless this is more practicable, where the ex- 
pense can be afforded, than for parents themselves to give 
regular instruction. Young persons, thus educated, may, 
with a faithful instructer, make tolerable proficiency in 
literature ; but there is great danger of their becoming 
selfish and haughty, when all around seem to live for 
them. If the care of their education be committed to 
one person, who is an inmate of their father's family, 
and whom they feel to be a dependant, they may learn 
to regard this teacher as a kind of upper servant, whose 
interest renders it important that she should please them, 
rather than as one who has a right to enforce obedience. 
It is for this, and many other reasons which will easily 
suggest themselves, that the office of governess in a pri- 
vate family is often a most irksome and humiliating one ; 
and that well-qualified teachers usually prefer the care of 
a large school, though with a smaller salary, than to sub- 
ject themselves to the mortifications of such a situation. 
In a city, the rich can command a great variety of talents, 
and employ, for their children, masters, at home, in the 
various branches of education ; but it is often the money, 
and not the improvement of the pupil, which these hourly 
teachers are most anxious about : and besides, where is 
the beautiful uniformity, which the moral and intellectual 
structure should exhibit, when reared by a number of in- 
dependent architects ? Would these parents build a house, 
in the same manner ? or would they not rather commit 
the superintendence to one master-builder ? 

Educated under the paternal roof, the young can have 



PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 37 

little idea of a world in which their interests will clash 
with those of others, and where forbearance and self-denial 
will be continually needed. Parents may faithfully warn 
their children of these things ; they may tell them that 
the world will present a scene very different from that in 
which their least complaint receives attention, and their 
slightest unhappiness meets with sympathy ; but the hab- 
it of being served and indulged becomes so strong, that 
when, in after years, the scene is reversed, and the petted 
child is called upon to sacrifice her own ease and comfort, 
for that of others, she finds the task difficult and discour- 
aging, and either shrinks from the performance of known 
duties, or becomes unhappy in the discharge of them. 

We see, then, that, however beautiful the theory of 
domestic education, it is not easy in practice. The moth- 
er, herself, who sets out with the resolution to persevere 
in teaching her child, or in superintending her education, 
will at length feel that there are difficulties and evils grow- 
ing out of her excessive anxiety ; she will see, that, by 
close and constant contact with her child, and a habit of 
minute attention, she is prevented from seeing the outline 
of her character, and forming and executing those general 
rules, to which subordinate ones should be subservient. 

I have heard mothers, who had been in the practice 
of instructing youth, say, that they found more difficulty 
in governing and managing one or two of their own chil- 
dren, than in controlling and instructing a large school. 
This may be easily accounted for ; an instructer has, or 
ought to have, her mind free from other cares than those 
connected with her profession. If conscientious, she feels 
a sufficient degree of interest in the progress and charac- 
ter of her pupils to induce her to make every possible 
exertion ; but she does not suffer that excessive solici- 
tude which often impedes the mother's progress. Phy- 
sicians frequently profess an unwillingness to prescribe for 
their own families, on the ground that too great anxiety 
influences their judgement. In all cases, requiring the 
full exercise of the reasoning powers, it is important that 
the mind should, as litde as possible, be influenced by 
the emotions. 

4 xvni. 



38 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Parents are often deceived, in the characters of their 
children, as those who have the charge of schools are 
often made to observe. A father, placing abroad a bold 
and conceited girl, will perhaps represent his daughter as 
excessively diffident, requiring only to be brought forward 
and encouraged. Children of dull intellects are reported 
remarkable geniuses, who will be in danger of injuring 
themselves, through an excessive love of study. One, 
destitute of any natural capacity for comprehending eith- 
er time or tune, is recommended for her fine talents in 
music. Another has learned to daub with colors, and 
her parents wish that her fine taste in drawing may be 
cultivated, although the poor girl may not have sufficient 
correctness of eye, to make a horizontal or perpendicu- 
lar line. These mistakes are far from being confined 
to ignorant parents ; parental blindness often falls upon 
those, who, in other respects, are wise and enlightened. 

We have, in the preceding remarks, considered pri- 
vate education in its most favorable aspect, not taking 
into account the numerous cases in which the mother is 
inadequate to the task of instructing, from her own de- 
fective education, or from feebleness of constitution. 
Many young females are early deprived of a mother's 
care, and the father is compelled to send them abroad 
for education. It seems, then, that there is a necessity 
for female schools ; and yet, strange as the fact may ap- 
pear, no provision for such an object has ever been made, 
by the guardians of the public welfare. Napoleon, in- 
deed, established the school of St. Denis, for educating 
the daughters of his Legion of Honor ; but this was con- 
ducted on an imperfect plan, and very limited in its op- 
eration. 

An American writer,* after urging the claims of the 
daughters of the Republic, to share, in some small degree, 
with the sons, in those privileges for mental improvement 
which are so abundantly bestowed upon the latter, thus 
remarks of female education, in reference to national char- 
acter and glory : — " Ages have rolled away ; barbarians 
have trodden the weaker sex beneath tlieir feet ; tyrants 

* Mrs. Emma Willurd. 



PRIVATE AND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 39 

have robbed us of the present light of heaven, and fain 
would take its future. Nations, calling themselves polite, 
have made us the fancied idols of a ridiculous worship, 
and we have repaid them with ruin for their folly. But 
where is that wise and heroic country, which has consid- 
ered that our rights are sacred, though we cannot defend 
them ? that, though a weaker, we are an essential, part of 
the body politic, whose corruption or improvement must 
affect the whole ? and which, having thus considered, has 
sought to give us, by education, that rank in the scale of 
being, to which our importance entitles us ? History 
shows not that country. It shows many, whose legisla- 
tures have sought to improve their various vegetable pro- 
ductions, and their breeds of useful brutes ; but none 
whose public councils have made it an object of their de- 
liberations, to improve the character of their women. Yet, 
though history lifts not her finger to such a one, anticipa- 
tion does. She points to a nation, which, having thrown 
off the shackles of authority and precedent, shrinks not 
from schemes of improvement, because other nations have 
never attempted them ; but which, in its pride of inde- 
pendence, would rather lead than follow, in the march of 
human improvement ; a nation, wise and magnanimous to 
plan, enterprising to undertake, and rich in resources to 
execute." 

The late Governor Clinton encouraged a petition to 
the legislature of New York, for the endowment of a col- 
legiate institution for females, and, in his public address to 
that body, expressed himself in its favor. The novelty 
of the petition caused considerable sensation, and gave 
rise to much discussion, both in the House, and abroad. 
The more enlightened members seemed, generally, in fa- 
vor of considering females as the legitimate children of 
the State, and making some provision for their intellec- 
tual improvement. But some said, ''learning would not 
help them to knit stockings, or make puddings ;" others, 
who viewed women in a more interesting light, than as 
mere domestic drudges, were afraid that masculine stud- 
ies would spoil the gentleness of their disposition, and 
produce in them the desire to rival man, and thus disturb 



40 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the established order of society. The bill for an endow- 
meat of a Female Seminary, after having received a fa- 
vorable report from the committee to whom it was re- 
ferred, was defeated, througli the influence of those, who, 
without attempting to deny the right which was claimed, 
thought it should be waived, on the ground of the evils 
vi^hich might result, from enlightening the minds of those, 
who were destined to a limited and subordinate sphere. 

But let the question come fairly before those who ob- 
ject to female improvement on these grounds. The right 
of the stronger sex to keep the weaker in a state of intel- 
lectual bondage is certainly questionable. Let it then be 
considered on the ground of expediency. What would 
be the state of society, if females were generally taught 
the laws of the material and mental world, the nature of 
right and obligation, their own duties, and their high res- 
ponsibilities, as moral and intellectual beings .'' Would 
such knowledge be likely to cause them to forsake the 
path of duty, and to seek a sphere of action, which, from 
know^ing the constitution of society, and especially the 
nature of their own obligations, they perceive does not 
belong to them ? There is an absurdity in such supposi- 
tions ; and if some have thrown aside that dehcacy which 
is the crowning ornament of the female character ; if they 
have urged the rights of their sex to share in public of- 
fices, and in the command of armies ; if they have de- 
manded, that they shall be permitted to leave the sacred 
hearth, the domestic altar, and all the delights and duties 
of home, to mingle in political commotions, or the din of 
arms ; — they have but expressed the overflowings of their 
own restless spirits, their own unnatural and depraved 
ambition. Tfiey are not to be considered as the deputed 
representatives of our sex ; they have thrown off the fe- 
male character, and deserve no longer to be recognised 
as women ; they are monsters, a kind of lusus naturce^* 
who have amused the world, to the great injury of that 
sex, whom they have pretended to defend. 

But let us look to intellectual women, who are also 
Christians ; and, so far from finding them disorganizers of 

* Freaks of Nature. 



PRIVATE AxND PUBLIC EDUCATION. 41 

society, pedantic, unfeminine, or neglectful of duly in 
their various domestic relations, they are usually as distin- 
guished in private life, for their good qualities, and for 
faithfulness in the discharge of duties, as in public, for 
their high intellectual powers. 

May those of my female readers, who have enjoyed 
the advantages of an enlightened education, prove by their 
lives, the fallacy of the doctrine, that " looman must be ig- 
norant in order to be useful.''^ On you, my fair country- 
women, the attention of many is fixed ; and your future 
conduct may, hereafter, be referred to, as a solution of 
the problem, " ivhether it is for the good of society that 
loomen shall pursue a liberal course of education ?" 

" I do not hesitate," says a French writer,* " to say 
that the spirit of Christianity, which places women in their 
proper rank, has not yet sufficiently influenced the laws 
and customs of society. There still remains, in relation 
to this subject, and perhaps to many others, a moral rev- 
olution to be accomplished. God has charged man with 
the application of the principles of revelation. As an in- 
telligent being, woman is not different from man ; she 
possesses the same faculties, though, it may be, in a some- 
what different proportion. The nature of the two sexes 
being common, their education ought not to differ, essen- 
tially, as to principles. Man, as a reasonable creature, a 
free, moral agent, should be so educated, as to strength- 
en morality, by subjecting his freedom to the empire of 
reason. Woman is reasonable, since she has an idea of 
what is true and false ; she is moral, since she has the 
sentiment, if not the knowledge, of good and evil ; she is 
also free, or possesses that liberty defined by Bossuet, 
' the power of willing, or not willing.' Why, then, should 
her reason be left without a guide, her conscience without 
light, her liberty without restraint ? Upon what grounds 
should truth be withheld from her ? Truth is the law of 
the soul, and the suppression of laws can only promote 
oppression or licentiousness. Thus has the world been 
divided, between those, who would either hold women in 

* See Countess De Remusat's ' Essai sur I'Education des Femmea,' 
page 128. 

4* 



42 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND,. 

servile bondage, or release them from all obligations ; — 
who would eitlier make them slaves, or rebels." 

I will only add to the remarks of this energetic writer, 
that I believe tliere have always been good men, who 
have desired to enlighten the female mind with the knowl- 
edge of truth and duty, and that at present this number is 
great, and greatly increasing. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 

It may be said, there is no difficulty in finding schools 
enough, where young ladies can be placed for their edu- 
cation. True, there is no want of schools ; but how mis- 
erably defective are many of them, both in the qualifica- 
tions of teachers, and their facilities for giving instruction! 

Some lady of fashion, after a few years spent in gain- 
ing superficial accomplishments, and a few more in show- 
ing herself off,— by some means, perhaps an unfortunate 
marriage, the loss of friends and fortune, finds herself re- 
duced to the necessity of gaining her own support. She 
opens a boarding-school, and parents, charmed with the 
elegant manners of one, whose exterior graces have alone 
been cultivated, intrust her with the care of instructing 
their daughters, not only in literature and science, but in 
morality and religion. What can be expected of one, who 
knows nothing of a regular course of mental discipline, 
and who never acknowledged the obligations of morality, 
or the sanctions of religion ?* We need not be surprised 

* Miss Edgeworth relates a story of an elegant and accomplished 
French opera-dancer, who appliad to a gentleman for a recommenda- 
tion to an English family, as a governess. On observing that her request 
appeared to excite some surprise, she said, " You surely do not doubt 
my capability ; — do I not speak French with the true Parisian accent ' 
and, as for music and dancing, T can certainly teach these to any young 
person." The gentleman being thus pressed was obliged to say, that 
most mothers would be inquisitive about the moral character of the 
person to whom they intrusted their daughters. It is to be feared that 
such is the prevailing admiration for accomplishments, especially iot 



PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 43 

to see the pupils of such instructers setting a high value 
upon external graces, and despising, alike, an unfashiona- 
ble scrupulousness of conscience, and the real elevation 
of a cultivated mind. They are thoroughly instructed in 
the art of seeming to be mild and gentle, and to discourse,, 
with seeming knowledge, on subjects of which they are 
ignorant. The time, spent in this pretended education, 
under different auspices, would have given them the sub- 
stance instead of the shadow ; would have rendered the 
gem truly valuable, instead of imparting to it a fictitious 
lustre. Who that looks upon a young female with a sense 
of her future responsibilities, but must sigh to behold her 
devoting the (ew probationary years of life to the mere 
acquisition of personal accomplishments ? Who would 
not entreat her parents to reflect that the sweetest voice 
of music w^ill be silent in the grave, the most graceful 
form, that glides through the dance, will moulder into 
dust, while the soul must continue to exist, through the 
boundless ages of eternity ? And shall the soul, alone, 
be neglected ? 

But I forbear to dwell upon a picture, from which the 
reflecting mind recoils, — that of a young female, placed 
in the care of one who would mislead her, with respect to 
what is truly valuable in education, and the necessary 
preparation for future life. I would gladly believe such 
instances of misplaced confidence are rare, and that the 
greater number, of those who engage in the business of 
education, are aware of their great responsibility, and 
chiefly anxious for the moral character of their pupils, 
while they pay a reasonable attention to their perfection 
in personal accomphshments, and their progress in Hterary 
attainments. 

And yet, with all the zeal, talents, and virtue, which 
any female teacher ever did, or can, possess, she cannot 
compensate her pupils for the want of those facilities for 
improvement which are enjoyed by the students of pub^ 
lio institutions for males. Under the former method of 

some of our cities, that a governess or teacher, possessing the qualifica- 
tions of the opera-dancer, would find too many parents, willing to over- 
legk the want of moral qualifications. 



44 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

conducting schools, a single teacher often had the charge 
of forty or fifty pupils, assembled in one apartment, where 
writing, embroidery, rhetoric, philosophy, painting, arith- 
metic, chemistry, and spelling, were all mingled together, 
in chaotic confusion. The teacher, with no kind of 
apparatus for illustrations, no leisure for investigation, 
scarcely had time to hear a rapid recitation, from memo- 
ry, of the lessons of each class, and this, too, while gov- 
erning the school, called upon to make pens, to look over 
sums, to correct a drawing, or to point out the proper 
shades for the embroidery of a flower. There are still 
many female schools in our country, where similar scenes 
are presented, with the exception, perhaps, of embroi- 
dery, which is now generally laid aside, although other 
kinds of needle-work are often substituted for it. But 
parents should not be so unreasonable as to expect of 
their daughters great improvement, under such disadvan- 
tages. It is true, they do sometimes learn ; but, at best, 
both teachers and pupils must proceed under great dis- 
couragements. 

To a mind thirsting for the pure waters of knowledge, 
it is tantalizing, in the extreme, to be condemned to see 
the fountain in the far-off distance, to taste a few scanty 
drops, and yet never be allowed to gain a nearer access. 
Those, who are more favored, should learn duly to appre- 
ciate and improve their advantages. There are female 
institutions where the pupils can retire to their own rooms 
for study, and, at all suitable times, have access to teach- 
ers, who, devoted to their particular departments of learn- 
ing, have the opportunity of preparing themselves for their 
duties. In the recitation rooms, each particular branch of 
knowledge receives undivided attention. In chemistry, 
mineralogy, and botany, the objects of investigation are 
presented to the senses. The pupils breathe an atmos- 
phere of learning, and every thing around them conspires 
to give elevation to their minds and characters. 

With all these advantages the schoolgirl is exposed to 
dangers, from which, under the paternal roof, she maybe 
shielded. There are dangers arising from bad examples, 
and the too prevalent influence of a false standard of mer- 



PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 46 

it. In a public school, where many young persons form 
a collective mass, there are dangers arising from their ef- 
fects upon each other. '' As a little leaven leaveneth the 
whole lump," so do pride, vanity, and disregard to moral 
and religious principles, often spread from one, and con- 
taminate many. 

Many a young girl, who is injuring others by her exam- 
ple, would doubtless exclaim, " Far be it from me to be- 
come an agent of evil, a corrupter of others." Few 
would say in words, " I consider fashionable dress and 
manners more respectable than virtuous principles ;" but 
are there not many who say this by their actions ? When 
a stranger arrives at a boarding-school, what is the first in- 
quiry of many ? ''Is she handsome ? how is she dressed ? 
is she rich, fashionable, and genteel ?" Would it not natu- 
rally be inferred from this, that these were considered the 
most important qualifications ? Do we as often hear the 
inquiry, "Is the new scholar pious, well-informed, or 
amiable ?" Now, there is always danger that young per- 
sons will acquire false ideas of what is truly estimable : 
especially do their standards of excellence depend much 
upon the opinions of those around them. All the good in- 
struction, given by teachers, may be counteracted by ac- 
cidental associations. If, while the pupil is told that virtue 
is more to be desired than beauty, and piety than elegant 
accomplishments, she sees the virtuous and pious neglec- 
ted by certain exclusive young ladies, of how much great- 
er influence may be the example than the precept ! 

Philosophers have not erred, in considering the pecu- 
liar characters of individuals, as greatly modified by acci- 
dental circumstances. The human mind is so constituted, 
that what becomes common, ceases to make an impres- 
sion ; the attention is not aroused by the recurrence of 
what is expected : thus, when the young assemble to re- 
ceive instruction, it follows, of course, that they will be 
reminded of their duty, and called upon to hear moral re- 
flections ; they tal^e it for granted, that good things will 
be said, which will undoubtedly tend to their benefit, al- 
though they may neither listen to the counsel, nor practice 
it. So in their recitation rooms, where they expect ex- 



46 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

planations of grammar, rhetoric, mathematics, &c., and 
the attention, perhaps, fails of being arrested. Let the 
same moral remarks, or the same explanations, be heard 
in some unexpected time or place, and the mind sponta- 
neously opens to receive the truths. Thus, should the 
familiar discourses of some affectionate instructer, to which 
they once listened with a respectful, though it may be va- 
cant, manner, meet their eye, in other scenes, how quick- 
ly would their attention be aroused, how rapidly would 
recollection glance at one past scene after another, the 
various characters and events which, since their school- 
days, had given coloring to their life ; and how deeply 
might they then regret, that they had not listened to that 
admonition which bade them beware how they suffered 
their standard of virtue and merit to be unduly influenced 
by casual circumstances. 

Let fashion direct the form of a hat, or the cut of a 
sleeve ; we will even allow her an influence over manners 
and deportment : but let her not presume to enter the sa- 
cred precincts of virtue, to substitute for moral worth 
the gaudy plumage of which she boasts ; or, with her 
light wand, to expel conscience, that stern and faithful 
monitor, from its guardianship over the heart. 

How important it is that the prepossessions of the young 
should be on the side of virtue ! Among their associates, 
they will not fail of finding some who entertain false ideas 
with respect to character ; and they will be in great dan- 
der of lowering their own standard of moral worth, unless 
they learn to examine for themselves, and to watch over 
their accidental associations of ideas. 

It is of the utmost importance, that, in public institu- 
tions, a high moral standard should exist ; that the hearts 
of the pupils, not only on their own account, but for the 
sake of those who are associated with them, should, as far 
as possible, be secured in behalf of correct principles. 
Especially is it necessary, that a balance on the side of 
virtue should prevail ; this will produce harmony, in the 
support of what is right and good. Pupils, who enter such 
an institution, find the work of self-government, and of 
virtuous training, almost accomplished for them. 



PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 47 

In families, we see, in general, prevailing characteris- 
tics. Some aim at holding a high rank in fashionable 
life, without seeming to possess much natural affection ; 
and while, in private, very deficient in kind and disinter- 
ested offices among themselves, they endeavor, by various 
artifices, to set each other off before the world. This is 
wholly the result of selfishness ; they wish their brother, 
sister, or cousin, to appear genteel, because the reverse, 
they think, would disgrace themselves. It would be a 
fiital blow, to be thought to have vulgar relations. Of the 
moral character of those relations, they take little thought ; 
for, as, in the circle in which they are proud to move, 
morality is out of the question, so long as a fair outside 
appears, they make clean the externals, but within are all 
full of strifes, envyings, and deceit. Should we take a 
glance behind the curtain, and view the domestic life of 
a family where no moral or religious principle binds to- 
gether those, whose interests are constantly clashing, and 
who need mutual self-denial and forbearance, what scenes 
would present themselves ! Here the mask is thrown 
off, and each, understanding the game which is going on, 
can feel no confidence that he or she, in turn, is not to be 
deceived. Are there no females, gentle as zephyrs be- 
fore the world, who, in private, are blustering as the north 
wind ? Are there none, who seem to have tw^o faces, the 
one decked in smiles and tender glances, the other dis- 
torted with evil passions ? Suppose one of the other sex 
meets in the circles of fashion with an angelic creature, 
whose face seems the very image of moral virtue ; her 
sweet accents and winning smiles sink into the heart, and 
he feels that she is the being to make glad his future path 
in life. With a trembling heart, he asks from her lips 
the sentence on which his earthly happiness depends. If 
he is rich, handsome, and genteel, the votaress of fashion 
does not keep him long in suspense, for the great object 
of her artifices is to be consummated by such an union. 
Alas, poor youth ! thy destiny in this world is indeed 
sealed ! thou art like the fly caught in the spider's w^eb ; 
and too late wilt thou see thine own folly. For a little 
time, the mask may still be worn ; and, if there are some 



48 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

lingering sentiments of moral beauty in the mind of the 
fashionable bride, she will, perhaps, intend always to ap- 
pear to be, what she knows her husband thinks she is ; 
but, at the first opposition to her own will, the first call 
upon self-denial and disinterestedness, the disguise is 
dropped, and the traces of beauty are no longer visible 
to the eye of the dismayed husband ! 

It may seem, that I am severe upon my own sex, only ; 
but the vices and deceptions of the other, it is not now 
my province to expose. It is probable, however, that 
there are instances, in which the cheat is mutual ; and that, 
when the mask, which concealed the character of one, drops 
off, the assumed disguise of the other is not long retained ; 
thus both parties are left to gaze upon each other with mu- 
tual horror and disgust. 

What a picture of human life is this ! And, my 3 oung 
friends, can you wonder that those, to whom the forming 
of your characters is committed, should so anxiously de- 
sire that you may indeed 6e, all that we would have you 
seem to be 9 You are now young ; your hearts are yet 
unsophisticated by the fatal influence of a life of pleasure 
and dissipation. An occasional glance at the scenes of 
fashionable life, must have shown you how strongly fortified 
your minds should be, v/ith the principles of religion and 
virtue, to enable you to resist such allurements. At the 
season when the youthful mind is to be formed, and when 
it is to be guarded against the seductions of the world, how 
necessary it is that an elevated standard of moral charac- 
ter should prevail ! If, even at this period, fashion can 
enthral you with her fetters, restraining the spontaneous ef- 
fusions of your youthful hearts, directing, by her influence, 
your affections and friendships, what will you become, 
when your present restraints are removed, and the temp- 
tations of the world assail you ? Are any of you willing 
to believe, or say, " My chief ambition in life shall be to 
JBgure in the region of fashion ; the amiable qualities of the 
heart, the acquirements of intellect, and the integrity of 
virtue, shall have no charms for me ! The incense of my 
heart shall be offered at the shrine of wealth and pleas- 
ure !" Each of you would now feel insulted by having 



PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 49 

such sentiments ascribed to you ; and yet there is danger 
that the fascinations of the world, acting upon a cherished 
love of admiration and pleasure, may hurry you into the 
vortex of thoughtless dissipation, 

" Where virtue is forgot, and folly reigns." 

We would have you pay such attention to dress, man- 
ners, and accomplishments, as may suit those stations in 
life which you may be called to fill. At the same time, we 
would endeavor to convince you, that these are but the 
appendages, not the chief excellences, of a lady. We 
would not that you should be like the butterfly, who, when 
on giddy wing she has sported away the short Summer 
of youth and beauty, sinks into oblivion ; — but, as the 
evergreen is brightest and most beautiful when the frosts 
prevail, so may your old age exhibit the lovehness of vir- 
tue, and the beauty of that holiness which shall flourish, in 
perennial verdure, in the paradise of God. 

5 XVIII. 



PART II. 
PHYSICAL EDUCATION 



CHAPTER VII. 

HEALTH. NEATNESS. 

Before proceeding to consider the subjects connected 
with intellectual improvement, I shall make some remarks 
upon the developement of the senses, or those external 
organs, by whose means the soul communicates with 
material objects. Although these organs are the gift of 
Nature, it is by practice, or experience, that they become 
truly useful to man. 

The term "physical education" is used, in reference 
to the improvements which can be effected in the human 
frame, and the senses, by a proper system of discipline. 
Among the ancients, physical education occupied a large 
share of attention ; it is now becoming a subject of inquiry, 
among those who perceive the evils which have resulted 
to the body, from a disproportioned cultivation of the in- 
tellectual powers. J\lind is, ultimately, the object to be 
acted upon, in physical, as in other branches of educa- 
tion. That department of the mind, to which we are now 
to give our attention, is called, by metaphysical writers, 
by the general term, external states of mind. These ex- 
ternal states refer to the mind, as affected by external 
objects, — as affecting the body, or as being affected by 
the body : they are also known by the general term, sen- 
sations. With sensation, perception is intimately con- 
nected, the latter being the knowledge of the material 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 51 

world, which the former communicates ; — thus, you put 
your hand upon the stove, and you have the sensation of 
heat ; by this sensation, you perceive that the stove is hot. 
The term consciousness is also superadded, by some met- 
aphysicians ; — thus, you feel the heat ; this is a sensation : 
you perceive that the stove is hot, and you are conscious^ 
or know, that you do thus feel and perceive. The term 
consciousness appears superfluous, for we cannot feel or 
perceive, without knowing that we do so. 

Music, drawing, and whatever is addressed to the eye 
and ear, are physical operations, inasmuch as they require 
the agency of the bodily organs in their execution, or af- 
fect the mind, through the agency of corporeal organs ; 
but the judgement, which decides upon the merits of these 
performances, and the emotions which they excite, togeth- 
er constituting the complex state of mind, called taste, be- 
long to the department of intellectual, rather than physic- 
al, education. 

Physical education commences almost with existence. 
The new-born infant shows itself capable of sensations ; 
if a pin is carelessly placed in its dress, its plaintive cries 
at once denote that it is born with the power of suffering ; 
it is the sense of touch, which is now the organ of com- 
munication. This same sense appears almost as early to 
afford enjoyment. The infant, while gratifying another 
sense, that of taste, in imbibing the food which Nature 
provides for its sustenance, seems no less delighted in 
clasping, with instinctive fondness, the soft, kind hand 
which sustains its feebleness. If it is disquieted, the gen- 
tle tones of its mother lull it to repose ; when it awakes, 
its eye unconsciously wanders, until, resting upon the ma- 
ternal smile, a new joy irradiates its countenance. This 
is the period which seems to distinguish the human being 
from the young of the brute species. No answering smile 
of love is ever seen among them ; and, although, in the 
acuteness and perfection of their senses, and in the rapid 
developement of their physical powers, they usually sur- 
pass the infant, yet here, the little immortal manifests the 
rational principle, which is to endure forever. 

It is with the infant, then, that physical education be- 



52 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

gins. If accustomed to constant rocking, or to being car- 
ried about in the arms, it forms a habit^ which requires 
indulgence. If it be early dosed with laudanum, elixirs, 
or ardent spirits, that it may be quieted or put to sleep, a 
habit is formed, which not only requires indulgence during 
infancy, but frequently lays the foundation for intemper- 
ance in afterlife. If the infant's head be suffered to re- 
cline most on one side, a habit is formed, of keeping the 
head in that position, and the face itself grows awry. A 
child may be fed with the most disagreeable nostrums, 
until a fondness is acquired for that, which, at first, was 
disgusting to the taste. 

You perceive how early physical habits may be formed. 
Nor are mental habits less early, or less strong, in their 
growth and developement. We shall, at present, confine 
ourselves to the former. We have already observed, that 
the term physical, as applied to education, has relation to 
the body. Not that the body itself, strictly speaking, can 
form any habits ; this is nothing more than a collection of 
particles of matter, which have previously existed under 
the various forms of animal or vegetable substances, and 
which will again be separated, to appear under new as- 
pects, forming parts of organic or inorganic bodies. These 
material atoms are not subject to any of the laws which 
govern mind ; but, while united to the mind, they are 
governed by it. The body is an instrument which the 
mind directs ; and, as in this state of existence they must 
dwell together, it becomes of great importance, that they 
should mutually promote the v.'elfare of each other. 

The mind may, at times, sigh for deliverance from its 
burdensome companion ; it may be conscious that, but 
for this, it could range through the infinity of space, visit 
distant worlds, and exist in an atmosphere untainted by 
human follies : yet He, who made man, has thought prop- 
er to consecrate a union between matter and mind, so that, 
in this life, they compose but one individual. 

Through the agency of the material particles to which 
it is united, the mind looks out of itself, and, by sensa- 
tions, learns the properties of the material world. The 
senses are all dependent on material organs, though these 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 53 

organs are no more the subjects of sensation, than is an 
eye-glasii of vision, or an ear-trumpet of hearing. The 
eye and the ear are themselves but as inlets, through which 
colors and sound gain access to the mind. 

To learn, ttien, the best me.hods of rendering the bod- 
ily organs subservient to the good of the mind, is physi- 
cal education. Tlie body may be considered as a ser- 
vant, which the Creator of the mind has bestowed upon 
it, or a travelling companion, for the journey of life. As 
we would strive to teach a servant his duty, to render him 
familiar with the offices which he will be required to per- 
form, so should the body be trained to such exercises and 
duties, to such privations and efforts, as the good of the 
mind may require. Whether, therefore, we regard the 
body as an instrument to be wielded by the mind, an hum- 
ble companion, or a servant, the importance of attention 
to it, as closely connected with ourselves, (for it is the 
mind which constitutes our identity,) need not be urged. 

The children of persons in the lower classes of soci- 
ety usually live wholly for the body. Play and labor, eat- 
ing and sleeping, make up the history of their early days. 
Or, if they go to school, and learn to read and write, 
their intellectual exercises are of so low a nature, as to 
leave the balance greatly in favor of the body. We some- 
times see, even in such unfavorable circumstances, the 
workings of intellect, as if struggling to escape from the 
rubbish under which it lies ; we see spirits, endued with 
great power and force, burst opposing barriers, and urge 
an onward course, mounting upwards like the eagle, im- 
patient to gaze upon the fountains of intellectual light. 

It is, however, rare, for the children of very poor and 
debassd parents, to make such an escape from the chains, 
in which mind is held by matter. The case of those 
who rise from obscurity, and become intellectually great, 
does, in general, differ from this. Fortune often depres- 
ses |)arents, whose aspiring minds never sink, or become 
debased, under any circumstances. Many a coarse and 
homely hearth sees gather around its evening fire those, 
who, after a day of toil, enjoy " the feast of reason, and 
the flow of soul," which cannot even be comprehended 
5* 



M , THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

by many of the iriflers, who walk over rich carpets, and 
recline on luxurious sofas. 

When looking at the sturdy child of poverty, whose 
ruddy face and sinewy form denote the full developement 
of hodily powers, but whose dull and vacant eye indicates 
the absence of thought, we feel that the human being has 
not risen to the dignity of his nature. Destitute of moral 
elevation and intellectual culture, man is but little superi- 
or to the brute creation ; it is only when all his faculties, 
physical, intellectual, and moral, are seen to act in har- 
monious concert, that he appears capable of enjoying or 
bestowing happiness. 

A sound mind in a sound body, ("mens sana in cor- 
pore sano,") was an ancient motto, denoting the most per- 
fect state of man, as a human being ; but, as the field of 
knowledge has been widening by new discoveries, the 
intellectual part of mankind have fallen into the error of 
neglecting bodily health, in their zeal for mental improve- 
ment. As respects our own sex, both fashion and in- 
creased attention to the mind have been alike injurious, 
in producing habits tending to physical derangement and 
debility. 

We have remarked upon the early formation of physi- 
cal habits, commencing even in infancy. The senses 
then learn their duties ; the touch corrects the errors of 
sight, and all reciprocally aid each other, in infornjing the 
mind of the properties of matter. 

'J'he sensations are an important class of our mental 
faculties ; for you must remember, that hearing and see- 
ing are no less states of the mind, than judging or loving. 
Education is employed upon mind, alone. When the 
mother would teach her child to vi-alk, she influences its 
mind to will the use of its limbs. She holds out an or- 
ange, and thus, by exciting the desire of possessing it, 
she tempts the child to move. The will obeying the im- 
pulse of desire, and having |)ower over the bodily organs, 
raises the feet, and impels the body towards the wished- 
for object. 

The senses need no foreign aid to bring them into use ; 
yet, even with them, habit has great influence, as may be 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 55 

seen in those whose business leads them to tl)e exercise 
of one sense more than another. The feelings of taste 
early mingle with our sensations ; all children love music, 
and their future taste, in this science, depends much on 
their early associations. Pictures delight children, and, 
according as those, which are presented to them, are 
well or ill executed, their taste, with respect to them, 
will probably be of a delicate or coarse nature. 

All the motions of the body are subject to the influence 
of habit. Stooping, while walking and sitting, may be- 
come a habit, and it is equally easy, to make an upright 
posture become such. Walking, with the toes turned in, 
is a common habit ; whereas the more graceful mode of 
turning them out, and thereby enlarging the base of sup- 
port, and rendering motion or rest easier, might with equal 
facility be acquired. 

It is, however, too late to warn most of you of the im- 
portance of childhood, with respect to physical habits. 
You have already contracted those of some kind or other, 
either good or bad. But it should excite our gratitude to 
the Former of our bodies, and the Author of our minds, 
that, strong as the power of habit may be, the mind still 
possesses a controlling power, to alter and correct, with- 
in certain limits, what we see amiss, either in our physi- 
cal, intellectual, or moral, habits. 

In common with many others, who have taken a share 
in the education of the young, we feel, that physical edu- 
cation has been too much neglected. When the mind is 
deeply interested in literary and scientific pursuits, it is 
prone to forget the body ; this, by being suffered to re- 
main long inactive, becomes reluctant to move, and visits 
back such neglect, by headaches, languors, sleeplessness, 
indigestion, and a thousand other ills, tending to paralyse 
the mental energies. 

Callisthenics,* or female athletic exercises, is very prop- 
erly becoming a branch of education. Many studious young 
persons appear to engage in physical exercises wid) reluc- 
tance, as if every moment, taken from their studies, were 
time lost. With the view already given, of the intimate 

* From two Greek words, signifying grace and strength. 



56 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

connection between the mind and body, you must be con- 
vinced that the latter cannot, with impunity, be neglected. 
It is painful to see youthful limbs dragged along, as if 
already touched by age and infirmity. Frequent walks 
abroad, especially in the early part of the day, are not 
only physically useful, but have a tranquillizing effect on 
the mind, which is thus led to the consideration of ex- 
ternal objects. The beauties of Nature cannot fail, when 
the heart is right, to suggest cheerful images, and to raise 
the thoughts to the Divine perfections.* 

If you become interested in natural science, particu- 
larly Botany and Geology, you will find a new interest in 
the works of Nature, and new motives will lead you to 
ramble over its wild and sequestered scenes. 

As a branch of physical education, dancing is recom- 
mended by physicians. It is not only a healthy and 
agreeable exercise, but promotes an easy and graceful 
carriage of the body. When practised in schools, or in 

* The following descriplion of a morning scene from Mount Ida, in , 
Troy, New York, is extracted from Mrs. Willard's address on the 
'Advancement of Female Education.' 

" The stranger of taste, if directed aright in his survey of our scen- 
ery, cannot fail of finding exquisite pleasure. Persuade him to go with 
you at early morning, that he may stand on Ida hili,when the sun rises. 
As he reaches its utmost verge, of almost perpendicular descent, he 
turns, and as his eye wanders over the goodly prospect spreading wide 
around, his heart will be smitten with the intense feeling of beauty. 
The morning sun is shooting up his first rays behind him. The city 
yet lies in shade at his feet ; and the majestic Hudson rolls dark be- 
neath ; but the sunbeams have kissed the tops of the distant mountains, 
and, by degrees, they throw their radiance on the nearer iiills, and glit- 
ter from the spires of our neighboring cities. And look ! a lovelier 
scene ! See where the morning beams glitter from the Mohawk, and 
gladden his many winding shores ; where the mighty Indian stream, 
as if anli^ in his gladness to meet his sire, divides and subdivides his 
waters, and sports amid.st his beauteous islands. And now, the broad 
Hudson catches the joy, and is one long sheet of light. And mark, 
how the sails grow white, as, from the north to liie south, they move 
lightly and chetjrfully along ; and now the city glows, and the green fo- 
liage of the intermingling trees ; ""^ see, what strange enchantn:ent haf 
changi^d the dew-drops to diamonds, upon the nearer meadows, and 
visited with glory the lesser streams that are meandering, through their 
fringed and dovvery banks, to seek the Hudson ! Now, take another 
broad, full g;ize at the s;ene, and you will declare, as you leave it, you 
never saw a lovelier landscape." 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 57 

private circles, it seems not liable to the objections which 
may be urged against promiscuous dancing assemblies. 
Connected with physical education are music, drawing, 
and writing ; and, indeed, every pursuit depending upon 
bodily action : these will be considered under the head 
of accomplishments. Riding on iiorseback is a very 
healthy, as well as graceful, exercise ; yet it is somewhat 
questionable, whether there is not loo much the appear- 
ance of display, in a young lady's prancing through the 
most public streets of a large city. A rural excursion, 
on horseback, is more safe and proper. 

The cultivation of flowers, and, indeed, every thing con- 
nected with gardening, has a most happy influence upoa 
the disposition, as well as the health. I scarcely know 
of an instance, of a lady, being at the same time ill-tem- 
pered and fond of cultivating flowers. I have known 
those, to whom sorrow had become familiar, find, in flow- 
ers, a solace for a wounded heart. To the cheerful, they 
suggest images of hope and happiness ; and to the dis- 
turbed mind, they seem to have a power of imparting se- 
renity. It is not after a walk among those eloquent wit- 
nesses to the power and benevolence of God, and inhaling 
the morning air from their dewy petals, that a woman 
would be likely to use ungentle expressions towards her 
husband, her children, or domestics. It is when foiled 
in worldly ambition, when languid from dissipation, or 
disgusted with a round of empty amusements, that a peev- 
ish and irritable temper may be expected. 

Beauty is essentially connected with health, and this de- 
pends on exercise^ neatness^ and temperance. It is much 
to be lamented, that young girls are so frequently impru- 
dent, with respect to the care of health. I have spoken 
of exercise ; but something more is necessary : it should 
be taken at proper hours, and in a suitable dress. An 
early morning's walk, in a pair of thin prunellas, will be 
more injurious, than even the want of exercise. Unless 
the feet are warm and dry, the body cannot be in a state 
of health and comfort ; and the danger from wet feet is 
much greater, where a person sits inactive, than when 
constantly engaged in exercise. The evil consists in the 



58 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

check, which this cold and dampness give to perspira- 
tion, and in their repelHng the hlood from the lower limbs, 
consequently causing a rush towards ihe lungs and head, 
and producing couglis, headaches, and nervous diseases. 
The feet should be especially guarded from cold and wet, 
because they receive a large supply of blood to carry on 
a great degree of perspiration, and because their distance 
from the heart, which is the central point whence circu- 
lation proceeds, naturally causes a more languid flow of 
the blood. The good old custom of former times, with 
respect to knitting, has passed away ; and warm woollen 
stockings have given place to thin cotton and silk hose. 
These materials are too light for our northern Winters. A 
young lady who, induced by the vanity of displaying a del- 
icate foot, appears abroad, in cold or damp weather, with 
a stocking and shoe fit only for walking over a drawing- 
room carpet, may succeed in attracting admiration ; but 
she will not fail of receiving severe censure for her impru- 
dence. AVhat man of sense would wish to marry a female 
who had no prudence u ith regard to her health ? Would 
the fortune or honor of her husband be more dear to her, 
than her own health and life ? I am sensible that impru- 
dence of this kind is often the result of thoughtlessness, 
rather than of vanity : young persons are not sufficiently 
aware of the danger of such exposures, and, having expe- 
rienced little sickness, they forget the frailty of their na- 
tures, and what slight causes may give rise to fatal diseases. 
But, having been warned by their friends, and their own 
sad experience, they are inexcusable, if they continue in 
carelessness involving consequences so serious. 

As to neatness, ahhough it may not be ranked among 
the virtues, or the want of it considered as absolutely sinful, 
it is certainly necessary, towards the perfection of the fe- 
male character. A slattern may be learned, gentle, and 
pious ; yet she cannot be regarded with conq)lacency. 
After admitting all her claims to our love, the heart refuses 
its affections, and we turn away with disgust. But it is 
seldom that external disorder is not either the cause or the 
effect of an irregular mind ; it is seldom unaccompanied 
by disagreeable behavior. A consciousness of a v. ant of 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 6^ 

personal neatness leads to a want of self-respect, and a 
jealousy of the good opinion of others. Its tendency is, 
therefore, actually to degrade the character. 

Neatness of person requires attention to the teeth. 
Some very neat people clean their teeth after every meal ; 
no one, pretending to decency, should omit to do it, 
thoroughly, at least once a day. The most suitable time 
for this is before dressing, in the morning. I say before 
dressing, because I have seen a young lady brushing her 
teeth with charcoal dentifrice, after having dressed her- 
self in a clean frock and cape, which could scarcely fail 
of being soiled in the operation. Fine soap and water, 
or a weak solution of common salt, are better for ordi- 
nary use, than dentrifrice, few kinds of which do not, in 
time, injure the enamel of the teeth. Where there are 
decayed teeth, the compound chlorine tooth-wash furnish- 
es a safe and cleansing application. But carious teeth 
would be much less frequent, did the young feel the im- 
portance of abstaining from what has a tendency to pro- 
duce this defect. vSome young persons use their teeth 
for nut-crackers ; and, because this does not at once de- 
stroy them, foolishly imagine it will do no harm. To 
this tendency of the mind, to lose sight of consequences, 
unless they follow immediately after the cause, may be 
attributed much physical, as well as moral, evil. " We 
must not suppose, that, because a single excess of any 
kind does not produce a direct attack of disease, it is, 
therefore, necessarily harmless." *' In the great majority 
of situations, to which man is exposed in social life, it is 
the continued, or the reiterated, application of less power- 
ful causes, which gradually, and often imperceptibly, un- 
less to the vigilant eye, effects the change, and ruins the 
constitution, before danger is dreamed of."* 

American women are accused of being remarkably neg- 
ligent with regard to the appearance of the teeth. This 
reproach was formerly deserved, more than at present. 
As the subject has of late been much discussed, and den- 
tistry has become a regular science in our country, we 
see fewer young persons deformed, by the want of teeth, 

*Dr. A. Combe. 



60 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

01* by bad ones. But we now sometimes behold a face, 
which, when the mouth is closed, looks bright and lovely, 
suddenly exhibit a most disagreeable change, by the ap- 
pearance of dirty and decayed teeih. Who has not, after 
mentally exclaiming, — That is a pretty countenance, — 
experienced a revulsion of feeling, at the opening of a 
mouth, which betrayed a neglected set of teedi ? Even the 
smile, designed to win affection, may thus excite disgust. 

Bathing is essential both to neatness and health. It is 
scarcely necessary to dwell upon the importance of the 
frequent use of soap and water, as connected with person- 
al cleanliness ; but, in order that you may understand its 
relation to health, it may be proper to give you some in- 
formation, with respect to the functions of the skin. 

" Besides performing the mechanical office of a shield 
to the parts beneath, the skin is admirably fitted, by the 
great supply of blood which it receives, for its use as a 
secreting and excreting organ. The whole animal sys- 
tem is in a state of constant decay and renovation ; and, 
while the stomach and alimentary canal take in new ma- 
terials, the skin forms one of the principal outlets or chan- 
nels, by which ths old, altered, or useless, particles are 
eliminated from the body. 

" Every one knows, that the skin perspires, and that 
checked perspiration is a powerful cause of disease and 
death ; but few have any just notion of the real extent and 
influence of this exhalation." "-When the body is over- 
heated, by exercise, in warm weather, a copious perspi- 
ration soon breaks out, which, by carrying off the super- 
fluous heat, produces an agreeable feeling of coolness and 
refreshment. This is the higher, and more obvious, de- 
gree of the function of exhalation ; but, in the ordinary 
state, the skin is constantly giving out a large quantity of 
waste materials, by what is called insensible perspiration, 
— a process, which is of great importance to the preser- 
vation of health, and which is called insensible, because 
the exhalation, being in the form of vapor, and carried 
off by the surrounding air, is invisible to the eye ; though 
its presence may often be made manifest, even to sight, 
by the near approach of a dry, cool mirror, on the surface 



HEALTH. NEATNESS. 61 

of which it will soon be condensed, so as to become 
visible." The skin is ascertained to be " endowed with 
the important charge, of removing from the system about 
twenty ounces of waste matter^ every ticcnty-four /lOws." 
Thus we see " why checked perspiration should prove 
so detrimental to health."* 

We proceed now to consider the consequences, which 
ensue from the neglect of bathing the skin ; and this leads 
Its to notice another of its important offices, called absorp- 
tion. By means of this, such substances, as are in contact 
with the skin, are taken up by certain of its vessels cal- 
led absorbents ; these are very minute, but so numerous, 
that when a portion of human skin has been injected with 
mercury, it is said to resemble a sheet of silver. It is by 
means of these absorbent vessels of the skin, that oint- 
ments of mercury, and other substances, are taken into 
the system, and affect the constitution, in the same man- 
ner as when received into the stomach. Vaccination 
affects the system, through the agency of the absorbent 
vessels of the skin ; a portion of the vaccine matter being 
inserted under the cuticle, or covering of the skin, and 
left to act on the surface of the latter, it is taken up by 
the absorbents, and soon, by pecuhar symptoms, shows 
that it has affected the whole system. You will now 
readily perceive, that, when the matter, which is thrown 
off by perspiration, is suffered to remain on the surface 
of the skin, or is kept in contact w^ith it, by neglecting to 
change the clothing, this animal effiuvia, which is of a 
poisonous nature, must be absorbed, and will act on the 
system. Physicians say, that this cause, alone, is suffic- 
ient to produce inflammation, fever, and even death. 
The pores of the skin, where bathing is neglected, be- 
come obstructed by the salts and animal matter of per- 
spiration, and thus the necessary exhalation is impeded. f 

Though conveniences for bathing may not be at hand, 
at all times, soap and water, with a sponge and towel, 
can always be had. It is asserted, by those who are best 
acquainted with the physiology of the human system, that 

♦ Dr. A. Combe. t Dr. A. Combe. 

6 XVIII. 



62 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

most mental and nervous diseases arise from neglect of 
the skin ; and that the first thing to be considered, in 
their treatment, is the recovery of its healthy action, by 
the use of flannel, warm baths, and friction with a flesh 
brush. But it is far better to preserve health, than to be 
obliged to seek for remedies when it is gone. Dr. Combe 
remarks, that few, who have the steadiness to keep up 
the action of the skin, by proper care, and by avoiding 
strong exciting causes, will ever suffer from colds, sore 
throats, or similar complaints. Man, he says, studies 
the nature of other animals, and adapts his conduct to 
their constitution ; himself, alone, he continues ignorant 
of, and neglects. He considers himself as a being of a 
superior order, and not subject to the laws of organization 
which regulate the functions of the inferior animals. If 
one tenth of the attention and labor, bestowed in the care 
of horses, were bestowed by the human race upon them- 
selves, to the condition of their own bodies, in attention 
to diet and clothing, colds, nervous diseases, and stomach 
complaints, would cease to form so large an item in the 
catalogue of human miseries. 



CHAPTER Vni. 

TEMPERANCE. HABITS WITH REGARD TO DRESS, AND CARE OF 

CLOTHING. CURVATURE OF THE SPINE. INJURIES FROM 

TIGHT LACING. 

Temperance is essential to health ; the habits, on 
which it depends, may properly be treated of under the 
head of physical education. Intemperance is of various 
kinds, including excess in any pursuit or indulgence. In 
its most limited sense, it signifies the free and improper 
use of intoxicating liquor. To this vice, we can scarce- 
ly imagine a young lady addicted ; and yet we may some- 
times see its seed beginning to germinate, in a fondness 
for wine, or some delicate cordial. No young female, 
in health, should indulge at all, even in the occasional use 



TEMPERANCE. 63 

of wine, strong beer of any kind, stinnulating cordials, or 
cider. From the physical and mental constitutions of 
women, they are even in more danger than the other sex, 
of acquiring the habit of jesorting to stimulants and opi- 
ates, for disorders of the nerves and of the heart ; their 
operation is more powerful on the system of the female ; 
and in this sense, certainly, she has the iveaker head. 
Whatever may be said, by those who claim to regulate 
the etiquette of a dinner, I cannot admit, that a lady may 
not have the liberty of dechning an invitation to take wine, 
since there are those who cannot taste the smallest por- 
tion, without being unpleasantly affected by it. Should 
it be said, that a lady can take a glass of wine without 
more than seeming to drink, I answer, that this is decep- 
tion, which, even in the most trivial cases, should be 
avoided. Why not fill your glass with water, and drink 
this purer element, in pledge of your good will ? Some 
of our writers on temperance would do well, to consider 
the effect of the custom I have alluded to, in promoting 
the use of wine. So long as it is thought proper and 
polite, for gentlemen, at the dinner table, to ask ladies to 
take wine with them, and uncivil for a lady to refuse, we 
must expect wine will be freely used, both among fash- 
ionable people, and those who desire to be thought such. 
But my object, now, is to consider temperance in re- 
gard to diet. Not that I am an advocate for that system 
of boarding-school starvation, where, under pretence of 
making them dehcate, or teaching them habits of temper- 
ance, girls are not allowed nourishing food, in sufficient 
quantities to supply the demands of nature. J doubt not, 
the foundation of future weakness and disease has often 
been laid in a long course of lean and scanty fare. But I 
am supposing that you have access to a table, plentifully 
supphed with good and wholesome food. I would not 
counsel you to indulge in eating a great deal of meat, or 
in the free use of gravies and butter ; this not only renders 
the skin gross, and produces disagreeable eruptions ; but, 
by heavily taxing the digestive powers, when these can 
be little stimulated by exercise, causes the reaction upon 
the brain, producing headaches and sluggishness, and 



64 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

rendering study irksome, if not impossible. It is not only 
important, during your school days, that you should be 
temperate in eating, but equally so, that the good habits, 
you now form, should be continued hereafter. You should 
acquire a government over your own appetite, so that, 
when a great variety of dishes is before you, you can be 
satisfied with the most simple, w^itliout a desire to taste 
of every kind. Young persons are usually fond of fruit ; 
and sometimes, when partaking of a dessert, which com- 
bines a great variety, seem to forget that it is vulgar to 
eat of every good thing which may be before them, and 
will either cause people to suspect they are not accustom- 
ed to delicacies, or that they are pctits gourmands.* The 
great danger of young persons, abroad at school, with re- 
spect to intemperance in eating, is in private indulgence, 
in feasting on the plum-cake, rich pies, pickles, sweet- 
meats, &c., with which their kind, but injudicious, friends 
may furnish them, or w'hich they may have an oppor- 
tunity of procuring for themselves. Self-indulgence is 
often the besetting sin of schoolgirls, w^ho, feeling the 
want of the enjoyments of home, seek to make amends, 
by seizing on such gratifications as they can command, 
without reflecting upon the waste of money, health, and 
mental energy, to wliich they necessarily lead. 

We have now considered three essentials of health and 
beauty ; viz., exercise^ neatness, and temperance. It re- 
mains, to make some remarks on dress, which is a correl- 
ative subject. 

Neatness requires, not only that the person shall be 
clean, from the head, teeth, and finger-nails, to the feet, 
but that every part of the dress shall be clean, whole, and 
put on in a proper manner. Some young ladies, who 
think much of their outer garments, are careless with re- 
spect to such as are not intended to be seen ; this is the 
true characteristic of a slut, in the broadest sense of the 
term. Every neat woman is careful to have her under- 
dress and night-clothes whole and clean ; though it may 
not be consistent with the circumstances of all, that these 
garments shall be of fine and costly materials. I have 

* Little ffluttona. 



CARE OF CLOTHING. 65 

known girls, who would be shocked at the idea of wearing 
a frock, with the sleeves less in dimension than would 
be approved by the most fashionable dress-maker, who 
seemed to think little of having their shoe-ribands tied in 
knots, or pinned on, or even if one were missing. Some 
are anxious to practise the most fashionable mode of 
dressing the head, while they neglect to mend a rent in a 
dress or apron, or to sew up the rips in a pair of gloves. 
A fine cambric handkerchief may occasionally be seen 
stained with ink, or fruit, — indelible marks of the careless- 
ness of its owner. But, of all the disagreeables in a young 
lady's dress, none exceed that of untidy-looking stockings 
and shoes. When you darn stockings, as I trust you all 
know how to do, be careful to fill up every thin place 
which might be likely to give way, upon putting them on ; 
do not be saving of stitches, in darning stockings, for a 
" stitch in time" is here of much importance. 

It is when a young lady goes from home, that her 
habits of personal neatness, and care of her dress, become 
apparent. She may have been accustomed to the watch- 
ful care of a mother, or some maternal friend, who saw 
that her wardrobe was kept in order ; she was perhaps 
dressed neatly, with little more care on her own part, than 
the doll, whom, in her turn, she had petted and dressed. 
But time carries changes upon its rapid wing ; the inani- 
mate object, which, in childhood, she had loved and cher- 
ished, as if it were, in reality, endowed with the qualities 
which imagination delighted to bestow upon it, now ceases 
to interest ; she sees it as a thing of mere wax, wires, and 
paint ; but she begins to comprehend that God has com- 
mitted to her charge a being of infinite value, which she 
may not neglect, or leave to the care of others ; that this 
being is herself, respecting whose necessities, and whose 
improvement, she has hitherto been most indifferent. 
Her parents, impressed with the importance of her ac- 
quiring habits of attending to her own wants, and seeing 
how strongly she is inclined to depend upon them, as in 
the days of childhood, perhaps place her abroad, for the 
very purpose of leaving her to make a character for her- 
self, to suffer the consequences of self-neglect, and to profit 
6* 



66 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

by, perhaps, a mortifying experience. Her mother is not 
with lier, to inspect her appearance, before she goes into 
the street, takes her place at table, or in the class ; she 
cannot inform the young lady that her hair is disordered, 
her dress not properly fastened, or is torn and dirty ; she 
cannot remonstrate upon the appearance of her stockings, 
or direct her to tie her shoes. But all careful mothers 
have given to their daughters directions respecting these 
things, which, if they fail to follow, they must sulfer the 
consequences. These will be, reproofs from teachers, 
contempt from companions, and the general character of 
being deficient in personal neatness ; besides all, the 
young lady will be confirming herself in the habits of a 
slattern, which she will not be likely to get rid of in future 
years. An untidy girl will scarcely fail of being a slut- 
tish woman. Let me advise you, my young reader, to 
scrutinize your habits with respect to neatness and order ; 
look to the condition of your drawers and trunks, your 
work-basket and writing-desk, your wash-stand, closet, 
and apartment generally ; see whether every thing is in 
its proper place, neatly arranged, and fit for use ; in short, 
whether all is, as your mother, or other neat and orderly 
matrons, would approve. If you find yourself guilty, set 
about the work of reform, without delay ; rise an hour or 
two earlier, that you may find time to bring order out of 
confusion, to mend and complete unfinished articles, and 
to arrange and systematize. If you are at school, you 
have only your own affairs to regulate ; if at home, you 
should aid in making home neat and agreeable. 

Intimately connected with the subject of health, and 
habits respecting the person, are the modes of sitting, 
when studying or sewing, practising at the harp or j)iano, 
writing, drawing, &c., and of carrying the body, when 
walking or standing. On these habits, it depends, whether 
the person shall be erect, and vvell-proportioned,or deform- 
ed by a curvature of the spine, and an unequal projection of 
the hip and shoulder. Upon this subject, 1 prefer to 
employ the language of a physician,* rather than my own. 

* Dr. W.irren's Le^^ture on Physical Education, before the American 
Institute of Instruction. 



1 



CURVATURE OF THE SPINE. 67 

" The weight of the principal part of the body, or 
trunk, the weight of the neck, the head, and the two up- 
per exlreniilies, are supported by a single bony column, 
called the spine. This column is about three inches in 
diameter. It consists of twenty-four pieces of bone, 
placed one on the other ; and between each two Is Inter- 
posed a substance, somewhat resembling caoutchouc, or 
India-rubber, for the purpose of giving it elasticity. This 
cokunn is hollow, and contains the spinal marrow. Now 
the spinal marrow is the origin and source of the nerves, 
that convey the influence necessary to voluntary motion ; 
and they are sent oft'', in pairs, to the various niuscles. 
The bony pieces of the spine are confined together, by 
many small ligaments, by the elastic substance just spok- 
en of, and by numerous muscles, affixed, not only to 
connect and support, but also to move, them. 

" The bones of the spine, at an early })erIod of life, 
are themselves, in part, composed of an elastic, cartilag- 
inous, or gristly, substance ; and are always of a })orous 
and sponge-like texture. In consequence of this kind of 
organization, the spinal column possesses much elasticity 
and flexibility, which enable it to yield and to move in 
different directions, and expose it to receive permanent 
flexures, when there is a deficiency of natural strength in 
its composing pans. 

'' Causes which affect the health, and produce general 
weakness, operate powerfully on this part, in consequence 
of the complexity of its structure, and the great bui'den 
it supports. When weakened, it gradually yields under 
its weight, becomes bent and distorted, losing its natural 
curves, and acquiring others, in such directions as the 
operation of external causes tend to give to it ; and these 
curves will be proportioned, in their degree and in dieir 
permanence, to the producing causes. If the supporting 
part Is removed from its true position, the parts support- 
ed, necessarily follow ; and thus, a distortion of the spine 
effects a distortion of the trunk of the body. 

'•'■ The change commonly begins at the part which 
supports the right arm. The column bends towards the 
right shoulder, forms a convexity on the side where the 



68 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

shoulder rests, and thus elevates the right higher than the 
other. This elevation, or, as it is commonly called, grow- 
ing-out of the shoulder, is the first phenomenon that strikes 
the friends of the patient. Often, when observed, it has 
already undergone a considerable change of position, and 
the change is not confined to the shoulder, nor to the por- 
tion of spine immediately connected with it. On exam- 
ination, it will be discovered, that the curvature to the 
right, in the upper part of the column, is accompanied, as 
a natural consequence, by a bend of the lower part of the 
left, and a corresponding projection of the left hip. It is 
perfectly obvious, that the inclination of the upper part of 
a flexible stick to one side, will leave the lower part on 
the other ; and when, by this inclination, the vertical sup- 
port is lost, a disposition to yield, at the curving points, 
will continually increase, until it be counteracted by some 
other power. Thus it happens, then, that any consider- 
able projection of the right shoulder will be attended by 
a correspondent projection of the left hip. 

'' The rising of the shoulder involves other changes in 
the osseous* fabric. For, as the spinal bones support 
the ribs, when these bones project, they necessarily push 
forward the ribs dependent on them. These ribs form 
the frame of the chest ; and, of course, the right side of 
the chest is projected forwards, and causes a deformity 
in the forepart of the body. Nor do the changes stop 
here. The posterior ends of the ribs being pushed for- 
wards, and the anterior ends being confined to the ster- 
num, or breast-bone, the right edge of the sternum will be 
drawn forwards, and the left edge consequently turned 
backwards. The fore parts of the left ribs will be grad- 
ually forced inwards or backwards, and thus the left side 
of the chest be distorted and contracted." '' I feel war- 
ranted in the assertion, that, of the well-educated females 
\yithin my sphere of experience, about one half are af- 
fected with some degree of distortion of the spine. ''^ 

" The habit of bending the neck, while writing or draw- 
ing, gradually compresses the vertebrae, and the interver- 
tebral substance on their anterior part, and causes a per- 
* Bony, from os, ossis, a bone. 



CURVATURE OF THE SPINE. 69 

manent change in the form of this part of the spinal col- 
umn. Tliis distortion is so very comnrion among us, that 
we are apt to consider it a natural formation. In fact, 
however, it is entirely arti(icial, in a great number of in- 
stances. Sometimss, it is the consequence of negligence, 
and not unfrequently, of timidity. Whether it tends to 
impair the heakh, always, I will not say ; that it some- 
times does so, I am certain : and its efl'ect, in deforming 
the shape, is even greater than a moderate degree of lat- 
eral curve. 

" The immediate cause of the lateral curve of the spine 
to the right, opposite to the right shoulder, is the eleva- 
tion and action of the right arm, in drawing and writing. 
This posture pulls the part of the spinal column, to which 
the muscles of the right arm are fixed, to the right side. 
The convexity of the spine, thus produced, keeps the 
right shoulder elevated, and the left consequenily depres- 
sed. Tlie lower part of the column is thrown to the left 
side, and this displacement, being favored by the dispo- 
sition to rest on the left foot, while standing to speak or 
read, there comes to be a permanent projection of the 
left hip. The postures employed, in practising on musi- 
cal instruments, sometimes bring on these distortions ; as, 
for example, a great use of the harp favors the disposition 
to lateral curvature, from the constant extension of the 
right arm." 

The mode of sitting at the piano ought to be no less 
carefully regarded. If you comprehend the explanations 
with respect to the construction of the spine, or back- 
bone, you will perceive how important it is, that it should 
be held erect, and that, by indulging yourselves in a crook- 
ed posture, the figure will at length grow distorted. You 
know that, if you should keep a straight young twig con- 
fined in a bent position, for a length of time, it would be- 
come a crooked tree. We should think it a strange taste 
in a gai'dener, who should thus wish to pervert the beau- 
tiful and perfect works of God. A crooked tree might 
indeed bear good fruit ; and if any of you aie, by nature, 
distorted in body, you must endeavor to supply the defect 
by richness of mental culture. 



70 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

In France, great pains are taken with children, to give 
them the hal3it of holding back the shoulders, and ex- 
panding the chest ; and it is said, that the collar-bone is 
longer in French women than in others. The posture in 
bed should not be habitually such, as to cause a crooked 
position of the spine. High pillows are injurious, as they 
produce the same effect upon the form as stooping. 

With respect to walking, the carriage of the body must 
depend, greatly, on the perfect state of the spine, and on 
the custom of holding the head up, the shoulders back, 
and throwing the chest forward. You may all do much 
to improve yourselves, in these respects, by walking in 
your rooms with a book upon your head. In order to 
balance the book, you must necessarily hold your persons 
erect, and, instead of looking down, as young ladies are 
very apt to do, direct your eyes horizontally. '' How 
different," says the physician already quoted, ^' are the 
impressions made on us, by a man whose attitude is 
erect and commanding, and by one who walks with his 
face directed to the earth, as if fearful of encountering the 
glances of those he meets ! Such attentions are even of 
great importance to the fairer sex, where we naturally 
look for attraction, in some form or shape. If Nature 
has not given beauty of face to all, she has given the pow- 
er of acquiring a graceful movement, and upright form, — 
qualities more valuable and more durable than the other." 

One more subject, connected with physical education, 
is the habit of tight lacing. In enabling you to compre- 
hend the manner in which this practice becomes injurious 
to health, and leads to the destruction of hfe, we again 
refer to Dr. Warren's lecture. 

" Nature has so contrived the human chest, that there 
is no superfluous play of the parts composing it. Its 
movements are just sufficient to give such an expansion 
to the lungs, and such an extent of oxygenation of the 
blood, as are adequate to the wants of the individual, un- 
der different occurrences. In females, the chest is short- 
er than in males ; and to compensate for this, the motion 
of the ribs is naturally more extensive, and more frequent. 
Whatever limits this motion is, therefore, pecuharly inju- 



INJURIES FROM TIGHT LACING. 71 

rious to the sex ; especially, as they are more disposed 
to consumptiorij and other chronic affections of the lungs. 
Now the ligatures, in the fashionable dress, are placed pre- 
cisely on that part, where the motion should be greatest ; 
that is, the lower part. It is precisely here, that, in case 
of fracture of the ribs, when we desire to stop the move- 
ments of the chest, we apply a tight bandage ; — though 
rarely do we venture to make it so tight, as the ordinary 
corsets. The effect of such pressure, begun at an early 
period of life, will be understood, from what has been 
stated in regard to the spine. The bones must yield 
to it ; their shape becomes permanently altered ; the 
lower part of the breast is contracted ; the space destined 
by Nature for the heart and lungs is diminished ; and what 
the fatal results of all this, on these tender and vital or- 
gans, are, every day's experience shows us. The influ- 
ence on the health, though slow, is certain. It may not, 
at once, produce consumption ; but it lays the foundation 
for ills, it would pain you, to hear, and me, to describe. 
I will only say, by way of specification, that, among other 
diseases, of which this is the fruitful germ, I have known 
three instances of perpetual headache, at last bringing on 
insanity, and terminating in death. The immediate cause 
of the disease, was the compression of the heart and great 
blood-vessels, and the consequent accumulation of blood 
in the head." 

You cannot fail to comprehend this simple explanation 
of that part of your own frames, which you too frequently 
expose to derangements, from the foohsh ambition of ap- 
pearing slender and sylph-like. But, although the cir- 
cumference of the waist may be diminished, the appear- 
ance of the whole person, so far from being improved, is 
much injured, by tight lacing. A rush of blood to the 
head gives the face a purple and unnatural flush ; the 
muscles, which give play to the arms and shoulders, be- 
ing confined, the motions appear stiff and ungraceful, the 
breathing is obstructed, and the whole body rendered un- 
comfortable. In such a situation, who can converse with 
ease and confidence, and dehght the social circle, by a 
fine flow of thoughts, and beautiful mode of expression ? 



72 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

The mind, partaking in the sufferings of the body, be- 
comes torpid, and, instead of giving and receiving enjoy- 
ment, in the hours devoted to society, torture, on the part 
of the victim, and pity for her manifest sufferings, are 
experienced. 

Corsets, when properly made and worn,* are far from 
meriting the general condemnation which they have re- 
ceived. They may be so made, as to prove a support 
to the body, instead of an injury. A degree of tightness, 
not uncomfortable, nor impeding any of the functions of 
respiration, is probably conducive to health. It prevents 
that weakness of the stomach, of which many females, 
especially those who do not wear corsets, frequently com- 
plain. A moderate compression of the chest is thought, 
also, by physicians, to check a tendency to dropsy. In- 
deed, it is with corsets, as with many other things, — it is 
the abuse^ rather than the use, of them, which should be 
condemned. 

* I will explain what I mean, by " corsets being properly ntiade and 
worn." They should be made to sit perfectly easy to the form, and 
worn so loose, as to allow a long and full inspiration of the breath. 
The busk should be bent to the shape ; and, moreover, be of an elas- 
tic material, which will bend, so as to admit of stooping forward, whea 
necessary. In dressing, in the morning, the corsets should be laced 
very loose ; for it should be remembered, that, after many hours of re- 
pose, the body is smaller than when exercise and food have increased 
the circulation of the blood, and, by inducing an additional portion of 
caloric into the system, expanded the fluids. 

It is popular to rail against corsets ; all the evils, which arise from 
neglect of physical education, and too great excitetnent of the brain, 
and from the prevailing bad habits, which fashion and refinement have 
introduced, — all, are attributed to that dreadful instrument of torture, 
the corset. It is true, that many have suffered from the improper use 
of corsets ; it is also true, that many houses have been burnt through 
the use of fire ; but, in the first case, the evil must be voluntary, and 
self-inflicted ; in the second, it may occur wholly by accident ; there- 
fore, all the arguments, with additional ones, may be urged against the 
nse of fire in our dwellings, which may be brought to bear against 
corsets. 

A worthy gentleman, after having expressed great horror of ladies 
wearing corsets, honestly said, "I will acknowledge, however, that I 
do not know what sort of a thing a corset is." A lady present, re- 
plied, *' Why, sir, it is very much the same sort of garment as the 
vest you have on, except that the one fastens in front, and the other 
behind." 



INJURIES FROM TIGHT LACING. 73 

I would here recommend a practice, suggested by a 
French writer,* viz., that of keeping a kind of physical 
journal, or a record of observations upon your own con- 
stitutions. In order to make tlicse observations, it will 
be necessary to pay particular attention to the degree 
and kinds of exercise most conducive to your health, the 
quantity and kinds of food most salutary, as well as the 
best seasons for taking particular kinds of food. Thus, 
some persons find, that breakfasting upon meat makes 
them dull and heavy, while the constitutions of others re- 
quire more of solid food. Late suppers are always inju- 
rious. By attention to physical changes, and an obser- 
vation of those simple remedies, which are found effica- 
cious in relieving slight complaints, females may learn to 
preserve and regulate their own health, without the aid 
of a physician, except in cases of sudden and acute dis- 
eases. A knowledge of chemistry and botany will prove 
of great use to you, with respect to an acquaintance with 
medicine. Every woman ought to understand the ele- 
ments and composition of the remedies provided for her, 
or by her administered to others. Without a knowledge 
of chemistry, she cannot be made to comprehend this ; 
but, with it, she holds a key, that will unlock the myste- 
ries, with which ignorant physicians have sought to envel- 
ope the healing art. 

If you ask a physician the component parts of a medi- 
cine which he orders, and he is unable to answer, you 
have reason to doubt his qualifications for his profession. 
Scientific practitioners do not fail to investigate the 
chemical elements of the substances they use ; as it is by 
a knowledge of these elements, and of their modes of 
combination, aided by experience, that they can calcu- 
late on the effects to be produced. A knowledge of 
botany will enable you to ascertain, with certainty, the 
identity of plants, which are important as medicinal agents. 
The common names of plants being traditional and local, 
it is impossible to decide on them, with certainty ; but 
botany will furnish you with a sure and unerring guide to 
their true name, as recognised by physicians. 

* M. JuUien. 

7 * XVIII. 



74 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

In the department of your journal, devoted to physi- 
cal changes, it would be well to keep a record of medi- 
cines, whose effects you had witnessed on yourselves, or 
others, with their composition and nature ; if vegetable 
remedies, give their botanical names and characters. 
Females have much need of some medical knowledge, 
both with reference to their individual maladies, and the 
diseases of those around them ; and though, accustom- 
ed, as most of you have been, to be watched over, and 
administered unto, you can now have little conception of 
the changes which will take place ; yet the time may soon 
arrive, when it will become your turn to watch over and 
minister to others. 

According to the arrangement which we have made of 
the departments of education, we shall next proceed to 
consider intellectual improvement. 

This involves the subject of mental discipline, and 
the consideration of the various branches of study, in 
which you may now be engaged. Even the study of 
moral philosophy, considered as a science, properly 
comes under the head of intellectual improvement, though 
as an art, or in its practical application, it belongs to the 
ethical or moral department. 

In remarking upon the different branches of study, it 
will be my object, first, to give general views of the 
history and progress of each science ; secondly, its prom- 
inent principles, and its relations to other sciences ; third- 
ly, its objects and practical applications. I may depart 
from this method, in some cases, as where it seems most 
proper to consider first the principles of a science, or 
where it appears unnecessary to treat of the history of a 
science distinct from its outlines. 



PART III. 
INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION 



CHAPTER IX. 



DIVISION OF MENTAL FACULTIES. MENTAL DISCIPLINE. 

CULTIVATION OF MENTAL FACULTIES. 

The mind is the object on which education operates. 
Even those habits, which seem to depend wholly upon the 
body, we see have their origin in the mind, without whose 
vivifying influence, the human machine would be as inac- 
tive as the marble statue, or the body from which the soul 
has departed. Physical education has relation to the 
mind, as governing the body, and capable of making it the 
willing and ready instrument of a variety of sensations and 
muscular movements ; it also includes that care of the 
body, which is due to it, as the tenement of the soul, and 
on whose sound condition, the welfare of the latter so 
much depends. 

Before proceeding with our remarks on intellectual im- 
provement, it may be proper to give the outlines of a 
classification of the states of mindj which has of late been 
received with great approbation, both in Europe and 
America ; — I mean that of Dr. Brown, to which allusion 
has already been made. According to this, all our men- 
tal phenomena may be referred to three great classes. 
First, external states of mind : these include all our sen- 
sations, as derived from smelly taste ^ touch, hearing, and 
sight, and also all the feelings which arise from the action 
of the muscles, or which are raised in the mind from exter- 



76 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

nal objects, or from bodily changes. Second, intellectual 
states of mind : these include what some writers have 
called the reasoning powers, the powers of the understand- 
ing, intellectual powers, &c. Third, emotions : these 
include what have sometimes been termed active powers. 
But the mind, when in that state called hope or joy, is no 
more active, than when engaged in reasoning, or imagin- 
ing ; a classification must, therefore, be defective, which 
makes a property, common to both classes, the founda- 
tion of such a distinction. 

The intellectual states of mind, and the emotions, uni- 
ted, form a more general division, called internal states, 
in contradistinction to external. These internal states 
are such as the mind could experience, were it separated 
from the body. If a human being could live, with the 
entire loss of all his bodily senses,* although he would be 
cut off from all external objects, yet we can conceive that 
he might remember the past, he might grieve for his mel- 
ancholy fate, and might hope for death, to set his spirit 
free from its living and breathing tomb. It is this capac- 
ity of the mind to '' enter into its own sanctuary, and to 
commune with itself," which, as Dr. Brown remarks, ren- 
ders it "truly immortal," and independent of the perish- 
able atoms to which it is now united. 

In treating upon physical education, we have considered 
the mind, in relation to its external affections. We shall 
now proceed to consider our second division of the de- 
partments of education, — intellectual improvement : this 
will comprehend Dr. Brown's second division, or the in- 
tellectual power. 

In entering upon the subject of intellectual improve- 
ment, a vast field opens before us ; it will be impossible 

* This supposition is not so absurd, ns may at first be imagined. 
Aged persons sometimes gradually lose their sight, hearing, taste, and 
smell ; and yet they are no less living beings than before the loss of 
these senses. We cannot suppose, that the only remaining sense, that 
of touch, is the link between life and death. Instances, too, h;-ve oc- 
curred, in which persons have been under the influence of a general 
paralysis ; that is, they have been wholly incapable of musoulur motion, 
and almost insensible to touch, and this, without being rendered inca- 
pable of intellectual effort, or of emotions. 



DIVISION OF MENTAL FACULTIES. 7T 

to do more, than take a rapid and cursory view of the many 
important subjects^ which present themselves. We shall 
consider, in what manner the mental powers should be 
disciplined, in order that they may strengthen and deyel- 
ope themselves, and then proceed to notice the various 
branches of literature and science, which are the subjects 
of study for young ladies. 

We have seen, under the head of physical education, 
how much depends on habit ; and it was there remarked, 
that intelligent habits are as early formed, and of as per- 
manent a nature, as those which relate to the body. Mr. 
Locke observes, " We are born with faculties and powers, 
capable of almost any thing ; but it is only the exercise 
of those powers, which gives us ability and skill in any 
thing, and leads us towards perfection. As it is in the 
body, so it is in the mind, — practice makes it what it is ; 
and the most, even of those excellences which are looked 
upon as natural endowments, will be found, when exam- 
ined into, more narrowly, ^o be the product of exercise, and 
to be raised to that pitch only by repeated actions." Many 
of my readers can bear witness to the truth of Mr. Locke's 
assertion, respecting the power of habit in intellectual ex- 
ercises. On entering a literary institution, of a different 
character from that to which you had been accustomed, 
you found, at first, a difficulty in investigating the sub- 
jects you were required to study. Accustomed, perhaps, 
to a mechanical, parrot-hke, mode of recitation, where the 
memory, and not the understanding, was taxed, you felt 
that it would be impossible to study and recite in the same 
manner as your classmates. You heard them give long 
analyses of works on rhetorick, history, or philosophy, 
explaining, in their own words, with clearness and facility, 
the Ideas of the authors ; and you believed yourself wholly 
incompetent to the attainment of such powers. You heard, 
with astonishment, those of your own age demonstrating, 
with clearness and force, some of the most difficult math- 
ematical propositions, and you gave them credit for fac- 
ulties of a higher order than you possessed. You now, per- 
haps, look back on those feelings, with mingled emotions 
of shame and pride ; — of shame, that you should thus have 



78 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

undervalued your own talents, and pride, that you have 
overcome obstacles, and acquired a habit of patient inves- 
tigation. This habit is of infinitely more importance than 
all othar intellectual attainments. Were a reasoning, re- 
flecting, comparing, and judging, mind required to give 
up those mental habits, or the knowledge gained by their 
means, it would not hesitate to part widi acquisitions al- 
ready made, rather than to lose the instruments by which 
they had been gained. Persons who have gained wealth 
can lay aside those habits of business, by which it had 
been amassed, assured that they shall be able to meet their 
future wants ; but the treasures of knowledge, although 
rich, may not thus answer for future occasions : in the 
ever-varying, ever-changing scenes of life, we are contin- 
ually placed in new situations, where we need to make 
new comparisons, and act on new principles. Thus we 
require the instruments of mental labor to be ever bright, 
and ready for use. 

In the view we are now taking of education, considered 
in reference to the nature of the mind, it may be well to 
note those mental facukies which it is the object of inteU 
hctucil improvement to cultivate and develope. I shall 
not, as we proceed, confine myself to that peculiar view 
of the mind, which the author, whose general divisions I 
have adopted, has given ; but shall use the terms reason^ 
judgement J memory^ &c., according to their general ac- 
ceptations, viz., as distinct powers ; they may be consid- 
ered as genera^ belonging to the class, intellectual pow- 
ers. I shall use this arrangement, for the sake of con- 
venience, although the minuter analysis of Dr. Brown 
very justly reduces the many supposed intellectual pow- 
ers under the two generic terms, simple and relative sug- 
gestion : the former including conception, memory, imag- 
ination, and habit ; the latter, reason, judgement, abstrac- 
tion, the power of generalizing, &c. 

We may now consider the human mind as a garden, 
laid out before us. He who created this garden, planted 
in it the seeds of various f^icukies ; these do indeed 
spring up of themselves ; but, without education, they 
will be stinted in their growth, choked with weeds, and 



MENTAL DISCIPLINE. 79 

never attain that strength and elevation of which they are 
susceptible. In one part of our garden, the germ of rea- 
son is seen to unfold itself, in another, appears that of 
memory, in another, that of judgement, until all the fac- 
ulties of the intellect are in their full progress of devel- 
opement. The emotions and passions are mingled with 
powers of slower growth : while the intellectual gardener 
cultivates the latter, with assiduous care, he knows that 
the passions need his most vigilant attention ; that, if they 
grow rank and unpruned, like the fatal Bohan Upas tree, 
which poisons every thing within its atmosphere, they will 
destroy the vital principle of virtue, and the moral harmo- 
ny on which the beauty of the character depends. Leav- 
ing the passions and emotions to be hereafter considered, 
our concern now is with those mental germs which belong 
to the intellectual department. The skilful gardener knows 
that his roses require one mode of culture, his tulips anoth- 
er, and his geraniums another ; and that attention to one 
of these will not bring forward the other. So ought the 
mental cultivator to understand, tliat the germs of the va- 
rious faculties should be simultaneously brought forward. 
This truth seems not to have been understood bv those, 
who, bending all their efforts towards the cultivation of 
the memory, have neglected the otiier powers of the mind. 
To illustrate what is meant, by these remarks, I will 
state a very common fact, widi respect to young persons, 
whose memory has been cultivated at the expense of the 
other faculties. Many such have entered a literary insti- 
tution, flushed with the hope of standing highest in their 
classes, as they had done where only memoriter recita- 
tions were required. Confident of knowing ''every word 
of her lesson," such a pupil enters her class, expecting 
that all will admire the fluency, with which she shall "say 
it off." Her teacher, instead of suggesting the mere words 
of the lesson, perhaps demands the nature of the subject 
she has been studying : this unexpected question confuses 
her ; for the truth is, she has never investigated it, at all ; 
she had not learned that words are nothing, except as they 
are the medium of communicating ideas ; she had always 
taken the shadow' for the substance, and is now astonished, 



8b THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

that she had never before thought it necessary to under- 
stand what she learned. 

The mental habit of connecting words by the mere re- 
lation of contiguity, is very injurious to the mind ; when 
a pupil becomes aware of the unprofitableness of the ex- 
ercise, it is often difficult to call forth the reasoning pow- 
ers, which have hitherto lain dormant. On the other 
hand, that exercise of memory, which depends on conti- 
guity or juxtaposition, should not be neglected. In the 
acquisition of certain sciences, and in certain departments 
of literature, it is important that some things should be 
learned by rote ; as, in languages, the declensions and 
conjugations of words ; and in arithmetic, the numeration, 
and other tables. Portions of Scripture, and hymns, also, 
should be taught to children, even though they are above 
their comprehension ; for, in afterlife, they may be re- 
membered, with deep interest and satisfaction. As the 
other powers develope, the faculty of remembering words, 
in a certain order, is weakened ; thus it is, that persons, 
accustomed to deep thinking, find it almost impossible to 
learn any thing by rote ; this is because their powers of 
reasoning and judging have been much more exercised, 
than their memory. Those, who acquire habits of com- 
mitting words to memory, often attain to a wonderful fa- 
cility in this respect; — as actors, who learn long parts, in 
a play, in a very short time ; and some orators and preach- 
ers, who are said to commit to memory the whole of their 
discourses, before they appear in public. 

We should not, however, expect, that a mind, fertile 
in suggestions of analogy, glancing quick from cause to 
effect, and from secondary to primary causes, w^ould pos- 
sess this kind of local memory, in a great degree. Of 
some persons, distinguished for the greatness of their con- 
ceptions, and the richness of their acquirements, it has 
been found, that even their own productions have, in 
progress of time, been forgotten by them. Others, when 
writing upon a subject, of which they had before treated, 
seem to forget what they had before written ; their thoughts 
taking a new turn, their language and arrangements are es- 
sentially different. It is not my present intention to give 



CULTIVATION OF MENTAL FACULTIES. 81 

a dissertation on the mind, any further, than to show why 
it should be studied by those who would succeed in its 
cuhivation, and that it is important for you, as students, 
to learn as much as possible of your own mental consti- 
tutions. Besides the general laws, which are common to 
all minds, each has its constitutional differences, and its 
peculiar habits. Where you find your mind most weak, by 
nature, you should strive to strengthen it, by suitable 
exercises. Where you find your intellectual habits de- 
fective, you must endeavor to change and improve them. 
For those, who have been little accustomed to the ex- 
ercise of the reasoning powers, it is well to enter upon a 
course of mathematical studies. Locke says, "I con- 
sider mathematics as a way to settle in the mind a habit 
of reasoning closely, and in a train ; not that I think it 
necessary that all should be deep mathemaiicians, but 
that, having got the way of reasoning which that study 
brings the mind to, they might be able to transfer it to 
other parts of knowledge, as they have occasion." 

The same writer observes, in another part of his ' Es- 
say on the Human Understanding,' that an acquaintance 
with even the first book of Euclid's ' Elements of Geom- 
etry' is of great use to the nn'nd, as unfolding a beautiful 
and systematic method of reasoning. 

I shall close this chapter, by giving a few rules, to as- 
sist you in the attempt to improve and discipline your own 
mental powers. 

1. Study the nature of your own minds. 

In order to assist you in this, compare yourselves with 
others. Observe their recitations, the particulars in which 
they excel, or are deficient. Notice whether they find the 
same difficulties that you do. It is also a very useful ex- 
ercise, for two or more pupils, of nearly equal abilities, 
to write upon some one given subject, and then compare 
their ideas, and manner of treating the same subject. 
While you should be careful not to set your mark too 
low, and thus fail of what you might attain ; it is also im- 
portant, that you do not lax yourselves too heavily, and 
thus injure the mind, by overstraining its powers. 

2. JVeyer consider a lesson learned^ until you can give 



82 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the author^ s ideas, in your own words, or at least, till you 
can point out the prominent parts of which it consists. 

This method of studying is the reverse of learning by 
rote ; it is acquired by practice, and is the only proper 
way of attempting to gain knowledge. It is impossible, 
after having read several pages of a work, to remember 
every idea which an author has advanced ; you should 
therefore strive to comprehend the main scope of his 
argument, and not dwell upon the less important ideas. 
Many pupils, from attempting to remember every thing, 
fail in attaining a clear knowledge of any thing. This 
habit of discriminating, in reading and studying, will be 
of great utihty, in afterlife. A facility is thus gained, of 
collecting, almost at a glance, the subject of a whole page. 

It is by following the rule above given, that students 
are able to give verbal analyses of voluminous w^orks on 
history, philosophy, metaphysics, &c. They could nev- 
er have accomphshed so Herculean a task, but that they 
first learned the leading argument of each page, then of 
each chapter, and lastly, of the principal divisions. 

3. Accustom yourselves to express your ideas on the 
various subjects of study, in writing. 

The practice of writing an analysis of the lessons you 
are studying is a very good one ; but this cannot be done 
until you have prepared yourself for it, by some previous 
study. By attempting to make an outline, before a view 
of the whole has been taken, the mind is confused, rather 
than assisted. It is well, to make the sciences you study, 
the subjects of your weekly compositions ; sometimes 
taking them in one point of view, sometimes in another. 

4. Improve the best hours of the day, to secure those 
lessons, which require the greatest mental effort. 

The season most favorable for study is, with most per- 
sons, the morning. The body being refreshed by sleep, 
and the mind by a suspension of effort, your most diffi- 
cult lessons, as mathematics, or philosophy, should then 
be studied. Drawing, music, botany, chemistry, and 
other pursuits, which are not of an abstract nature, can 
excite an interest, even when the mind is fatigued ; but, 
when it appears in any degree overstrained, it should be 



CULTIVATION OF MENTAL FACULTIES. 83 

suffered to relax. It is evident, that, in all intellectual, as 
well as mechanical, labor, the work accomplished must 
be in proportion to the power exerted. When the mind 
is languid, it is impossible for it to put forth power, nor 
can time make up for mental energy. One hour of suc- 
cessful effort is worth more than days of weak attempts. 
In order to keep the mind ready for action, regularity 
must be observed, in exercise, diet, and sleep ; they gain 
nothing, who disregard the body, in their zeal for mental 
improvement ; for, if disordered or enfeebled, it will cer- 
tainly react upon the mind. 

5. Endeavor to fix your attention, exclusively, upon 
the study in which you are engaged. 

Attention is, indeed, every thing ; without it, nothing, 
requiring mental effort, can be well done. In bodily op- 
erations, we may acquire so great a facility of execution, 
that we have ho need of attention ; — thus a musician can 
perform a familiar air, without thinking of his notes. 
Some feminine employments, as sewing or knitting, oper- 
ations which, at first, seemed complicated, in time be- 
come so familiar, as to require no attention ; the hands 
seem, instinctively, to perform the accustomed move- 
ments ; but mental exercises demand attention. 

It is, perhaps, the most difScult task of young students, 
to gain that command of their trains of thought, which 
scientific research requires. How many are diverted 
from study, by the most trifling circumstances ! the ap- 
pearance of a fly upon a window, an object in the street, 
or a slight noise in an adjoining apartment, being sufficient 
to call off their attention ; or, the mind, wearied with any 
attempt at investigation, gladly goes in search of some 
more pleasing exercise of its powers. 

But I will not attempt to imagine the reveries, in which 
a schoolgirl may indulge, even when demurely looking 
at her book, during the allotted time for learning her 
lessons. Your own consciences can say, how often 
the hour for recitation has found you unprepared, after 
such unprofitable aberrations of thought. But let me 
urge those, who are conscious of such injurious habits, to 
strive to acquire an ascendency over themselves, by care- 



64 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

fully guarding the avenues of their minds. Be resolute 
against admitting desultory thoughts, when you need all 
your concentrated mental powers to bear upon the sub- 
ject before you. The task will at first be difTicultj but 
you riiay, in lime, have the satisfaction of feeling, that you 
can fix your attention, or govern your trains of thought. 

6. Endeavor to understand, as far as possible , the na' 
ture, objects, and ultimate end, of the studies you pursue. 

Thus, when questioned as to your progress in educa- 
tion, you may be able to state what you have done, what 
you design to do, and the bearing which all this is in- 
tended to have upon your future life. With such ideas as 
these, fixed in your mind, you will not, when hereafter 
questioned, have occasion to say, with the young lady, 
who, returning from a boarding-school, and being asked 
what she had studied, answered, that she " could not tell, 
without looking at her books, and they were all in her 
trunks." 

May the intellectual powers and moral feelings of ray 
young countrywomen receive a right direction, by judi- 
cious culture ; and may the fruits of an enlarged and lib- 
eral education appear, in that true elevation of character, 
which will enable them to meet the various exigencies of 
life : may they become, not only intelligent and intellec- 
tual women, but good members of society, faithful and 
prudent in all the relations and business of life, and above 
all, pious and consistent Christians. 



CHAPTER X. 

SPELLING. ARTICULATE SOUNDS. 

From our previous remarks upon intellectual improve- 
ment, it may be inferred, that a proper discipline of the 
mind is of still greater importance to the young, than the 
mere acquisition of knowledge. 

The various branches of modern education have been 
considered under two heads : 



SPELLING. ARTICULATE SOUNDS. 85 

1. Such as seem chiefly valuable, on account of their 
effect in strengthening and developing the mental powers. 

2. Such as are chiefly useful, for the knowledge they 
convey. 

In the former class, are ranked mathematics and Ian 
guages ; in the latter, geography, history, &c. 

We cannot, however, make any definite classification 
of the different departments of learning, on these princi- 
ples, since the acquisition of any one science has a ben- 
eficial effect on the mind, whose capacity for receiving 
increases in proportion as it receives. On the other hand, 
there is no science, but may be highly useful in its appli- 
cations. 

Geography, which is considered chiefly useful for the 
knowledge of facts which it communicates, affords exer- 
cise for many of the faculties of the mind ; — the memory^ 
in retaining facts ; the power of comparison, when view^- 
ing different countries, with their peculiarities as to phy- 
sical and moral condition ; of abstraction, when a river 
or mountain is considered, without reference to any other 
circumstance. Geometry, which is so highly recom- 
mended by Locke, and others, for its influence in train- 
ing the mind to habits of reasoning and methodical ar- 
rangement, has its practical applications to astronomy, 
drawing, natural philosophy, and mechanics. 

With respect to the various branches of natural sci- 
ence, botany, chemistry, &c., it would be difficult to say, 
whether they are most to be valued for their intrinsic util- 
ity, or for their salutary influence upon the mind. The 
inquiry is often made, of what use can it be, for a female 
to study botany or chemistry. Such inquiries show, 
either an illiberal spirit, or great ignorance. Considered 
in reference to the mind only, these studies are of vast 
importance. Botany accustoms the mind to systematic 
arrangement, definite rules of classifications, and strict 
attention to the import of terms. Chemistry, by its mi- 
nute analyses, gives a habit of discrimination and observa- 
tion, which is of the utmost importance to all, especially 
to those who are about commencing the journey of life. 
Moreover, these sciences are not without their important 
8 XVIII. 



86 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

practical applications, which will be considered, when we 
come to treat of each science, individually. 

I shall now proceed to the various branches of fennale 
education ; endeavoring to give general views of the dif- 
ferent sciences, their origin and history, their advantages, 
and practical applications. 

The first step, in the literary education of a child, after 
it has learned the alphabet, is to put the letters together, 
forming the compound sounds called syllables ; and then 
to unite these syllables into words. This process is cal- 
led spelling, or orthography, from the Greek, oqQoc, orthos, 
correct, and ye,u.(pco, grapho, I write. The term orthoepy 
from o^dog, orthos, correct, and ittoc, epos, speech, signi- 
fies correct pronunciation. 

The habit of spelling correctly is an acquirement so 
necessary, that the want of it cannot be overlooked, in 
any one who makes pretensions to an education above the 
lowest grade. There are, indeed, persons, who, though 
denied the means of early improvement, have, by industry 
and talents, gained wealth and influence ; but such usual- 
ly feel their deficiences, with the keenest sense of mortifi- 
cation, and would be the first to caution young persons 
against neglecting their advantages. 

Owing to the defective method of teaching spelling, in 
many primary schools, pupils often leave them, with little 
practical knowledge of this important branch of education. 
The study of long columns of words, arranged without 
any reference to their meaning, proves not to be of much 
use. I have known a young girl, who had been distin- 
guished, as the best speller, in a common school, and 
who seldom "missed a word in her lesson," scarcely 
able to write a letter, which could be read, from the bad- 
ness of its orthography. She was accustomed to con- 
nect the letters with the sound of the words. In schools, 
where the only method of spelling is with the voice, it is 
customary for the pupils, in studying their lessons, to 
move their lips, and many cannot study with the mind, 
assisted by the eye, only. In writing, the eye must be 
practised, in order to detect erroneous spelling. It is for 
this reason, that we approve of teaching spelling by die- 



SPELLING. ARTICULATE SOUNDS. 



87 



tation, in which mode, the pupils write words upon a slate, 
or black board, after the dictation of the teacher. Bad 
habits, in regard to spelling, may thus be corrected. 

At the piesent day, it is the mark of a very illiterate 
person, to spell badly. To those who are exposed to 
this fault, a dictionary should be a constant companion. 
It is also well for such to keep by them a list of words, 
which they are most liable to mispell.* ^ 

There are many words of irregular orthography in our 
language ; thus, in receive, e precedes i, contrary to the 
more common usage, as in friend, believe, &c. bome 
words double the final letter, on taking an additional syl- 
lable, as, from permit, comes permitted, and from omit, 
omitted, while from visit, we have visited. The general 
rule, in these cases, is, that a word, ending with a conso- 
nant, and having the last syllable accented, as permit, 
doubles the final consonant ; while a word, ending with a 
consonant, and not having the last syllable accented, does 
not double the final consonant. 

A few rules for speUing should be written in your mem- 
orandum book; for dictionaries will not assist you in the 
case of many derivative words. Thus, from the primi- 
tive word holy, come the degrees of comparison, holier, 
holiest ; but, if the y, at the end of a word, is not preceded 
by a consonant, it is not changed into i, on the addition 
of another syllable ; as, from joi/, is Aenved joyful. 

Connected with the subject of spelling, is that of the 
sounds and poivers of letters. With modern improvements 
in education, there is a neglect of some particulars, which 
were more thoroughly attended to, when so many foun- 
tains of knowledge were not open to the young student. 
Formerly, the ' Introduction to Webster's Spelling Book,' 
containing, in some three or four pages, rules for accent, 
the sounds of letters, &c., furnished matter for months of 
study. Although we would not wish to bring back those 
barren days of education, it cannot be denied, that the 

* In making out such a list, only the correct mode of spelling should 
be copied. If the false orthography is set by the side of the true, the 
person will always be in doubt, as to the right way ; for, by the prin- 
ciple of association, the one is no less readily suggested than the other. 



83 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

scarcity of school-books insured a more thorough knowl- 
edge of some of the elementary branches. 

I have sometimes found, to my surprise, a young lady, 
quick to comprehend mathematical truths, who knew 
something of Latin, and was, perhaps, a proficient in 
French, yet puzzled to tell the difference between accent 
and emphasis^ to give a rule for pronouncing g soft in 
giant ^ and hard in go, or for giving c the sound of s in 
cedar, and of k in cable. 

There is, in the study of articulate sounds, and the 
powers of letters, much deep philosophy ; and whoever 
thinks it beneath attention, little understands its impor- 
tance or difficulties. It is easy to tell the difference be- 
tween a voivel and consonant, a mute and a semivowel ; 
but to understand, fully, the nature of articulation, we 
must study the various modifications of which the air, sent 
out by the lungs, is capable, in order to produce the won- 
derful variety of sounds, within the compass of the hu- 
man voice. 

Dr. Paley observes, " the lungs are to animal utter- 
ance, what the bellow^s are to the organ ; they are air- 
vessels, w^iich become inflated and then collapsed, as the 
air is inspired or expired." You can perceive, that, in 
respiration, the chest alternately expands and contracts. 
This motion is caused by the action of the lungs, which 
are two spongy lobes, suspended in the chest, being con- 
nected with the trachea, or windpipe, at the upper part. 
The air, which enters the lungs, is received into the mi- 
nute cavities of which they are composed ; these are 
called air cells. This air passes back through the w ind- 
pipe, or the tube that we can feel externally, and which 
is composed of cartilaginous rings. The top of the w-ind- 
pipe is called the larynx ; at the upper part of this, and 
behind the tongue, is the glottis, a very small opening, 
through which the breath and voice are conveyed. It is 
in the passage of the air, through this minute aperture, 
that articulate sounds are formed. By means of various 
muscles, or threads, which draw in different directions, 
the glottis is susceptible of many degrees of expansion ; 
and it is by varying the size of this cavity, that the differ- 



SPELLING. ARTICULATE SOUNDS. 89 

ent vowels are sounded. TJie air, in passing a large cav- 
ity, produces a low, flat sound ; through a small cavity, a 
high, or sharp sound. This may he seen in the vowels, 
a, e, i, 0, w, which proceed, in regular order, from low 
and flat, to high and sharp sounds. 

Oral language, or speech, consists of articulate sounds ; 
brutes utter various inarticulate sounds, expressive of their 
peculiar feelings. The cat, when quietly reposing by the 
parlor fire, expresses her satisfaction by a gentle purring ; 
when her capricious little mistress amuses herself by tor- 
menting her, she vents her sorrows in piteous meucing ; 
and, when roused to anger by the cruelty of the dog, she 
growls her indignation. Mankind, also, have means of 
expressing violent emotions, by inarticulate sounds, as by 
laughing, crying, or screaming. But it is only by articu- 
late sounds and their representatives, that intercourse can 
be satisfactorily carried on, between rational minds ; 
these are the links, wdiich bind together our spirits ; — 
they are wings, by whose means the soul is borne from 
its corporeal prison, to unite in the interchange of thought 
and feeling wiih kindred souls. 

May this gift of a bountiful Creator never be perver- 
ted by you, my young friends, to unworthy purposes; 
may your words be a true index of your hearts, pure, 
gentle, and kind. A deceitful world may tell you, that 
falsehood and dissimulation are necessary ; but believe it 
not. True politeness is consistent with sincerity, or sin- 
gleness of heart ; and if you once lose this, and commence 
a system of duplicity, your whole lives may become a tis- 
sue of artifice and hypocrisy. Let your hearts be pure, 
and you need not fear to have their true image reflected 
to the world. He, who gave you the power of language, 
adapting your bodily organs, in so wonderful and compli- 
cated a manner, to this object, requires, that you order 
your speech, in sincerity and wisdom. 

8* 



90 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 



CHAPTER XL 



READING. 



If God had formed us for solitude, he would not have 
given us the wish to converse with other minds ; or if, 
like brutes, we had been irrational, we should not have 
needed language. SjDeech peculiarly distinguishes man 
from the other living beings on earth. 

The word language is derived from the Latin, lingua^ 
tongue, and originally signified only the communication 
of ideas by articulate sounds. Its signification is now not 
only extended to the communication of ideas, by writing ; 
but we speak of the language of the passions, as expressed 
by various natural signs. The division, which is gener- 
ally made of language, is into oral* and written. The 
sciences, which have an especial relation to language, 
considered as an instrument of conveying those thoughts, 
are, grammar, rhetoric, logic, and criticism. Grammar 
teaches us to arrange words, according to certain rules of 
agreement and government ; rhetoric teaches the use of 
figurative language, and gives directions for attaining clear- 
ness and precision in style ; logic teaches the method of 
arranging words in a certain manner, in order to establish 
the truth or falsehood of propositions ; criticism teaches 
on what principles of the mind depend our tastes for va- 
rious kinds of style, and brings to the test of those princi- 
ples, the writings of various authors. All other sciences 
are communicated by means of language, but these have for 
their object, language itself; or, in otlier words, in these 
sciences, language is not only the instrument with which 
the operation is carried on, but the object, upon which it 
is performed. 

Before proceeding to consider the principles on which 
language is founded, we will make some remarks upon 

* From OS, oris, the mouth. 



READING. 91 

reading, which is the next step to spelling, in the scale 
of literary knowledge ; indeed, modern education usually 
proceeds with both at the same time, not waiting for a 
child to be able to spell words of several syllables, before 
he is allowed to experience the new emotions, connected 
with an exercise which brings the thoughts of others to 
him when he is alone, and opens to him a new and de- 
lightful source of enjoyment. As soon as a child knows 
its alphabet, it can be taught, that m y spell my, and that 
c a t spell cat ; he can then put the words together, and 
read, my cat. In a short time, he can be tauglit to read 
little stories, composed of words of one syllable, and 
from this, the transition is easy, to words of more than 
one syllable. 

It is but a few years, since teaching a child to read 
was a very different process from this. The little mar- 
tyr, in commencmg his education, was sent to school, to 
be confined upon a hard seat, for many long hours in the 
day, with only the occasional change of being called up, 
for a few minutes, to say his letters. The alphabet pre- 
sented was often in a small, obscure type, and printed on 
bad paper. The teacher, pointing to the letters, pro- 
nounced their names, requiring the child to repeat them 
after him. This becoming an exercise wholly mechani- 
cal, day after day passed, bringing the poor child appa- 
rently no nearer the completion of the formidable task of 
learning his letters. He at length became able to call 
one letter after another, when presented in regular order ; 
but, taken separately, and in any other place than the ac- 
customed column of letters, they were, perhaps, as unin- 
telligible as Hebrew or Greek characters. I have known 
children, of good abilities, tortured, for months, and even 
years, in this absurd and stupifying method of teaching ; 
but when the teacher, in despair of their ever mastering 
their alphabet, put them upon spelhng, the work was found 
to be accomplished ; as a few exercises of this kind con- 
nected, in the child's mind, the form, with the sounds of 
the letters. 

But here, again, the child's progress i& interrupted by 
the mistaken idea, that, before beginning to read, he must 



92 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

be able to spell words of several syllables. He reads 
^'- abasement ^^'' '-'■ ambiguity ^^^ nnd " contemporary^'''' witha. 
mind entirely vacant of thought ; indeed, he is not aware 
that the words have any meaning, or, indeed, any other 
use, than to fill the columns in his spelling book. The 
reading lessons, first presented, are often dry and abstract 
propositions, wholly beyond the comprehension of any 
child, even of one whose mental powers have been prop- 
erly cultivated. In the most popular spelling book,* 
which has been in use for the last half century, the first 
lessons in reading are of this nature. There are, however, 
in the book, some things of a different kind ; and the 
story of the "old man who found a rude boy upon one 
of his trees, stealing apples," is perused by the young stu- 
dent, w^ith great delight, for the simple reason, that he can 
understand it. 

The method of infant-school education affords a pleas- 
ing contrast to that just described. Knowledge is here 
made easy and pleasant ; the intellectual faculties are 
roused, by objects addressed to the senses. Pictures, 
with their names attached, are presented to the children ; 
and, in deciphering these names, they learn to consider 
words^ as representatives of things. In process of time, 
it is easy for them to learn, that words may also be the 
representatives of ideas. 

The different manner in which children read, who are 
taught by these two processes, is apparent. A child, un- 
accustomed to consider icrittcn language as the sign for 
things and ideas, or made to read without knowledge or 
interest, can have no idea of emphasis or intonations. 
The habit of reading mechanically, once formed, is with 
difficulty broken, even after the developement of reason, 
and the cultivation of taste, exhibit written characters, as 
kindled by the fire of genius, or glowing with the most 
impassioned feeling. 

To early defects in education, we must attribute the 
fact, that there are among us, few good readers. There 
are many requisites for good reading, besides early habits. 
It requires, not only knowledge of language, of the deri- 

* Webster's. 



READING. 9^ 

vation and signification of words, but an acquaintance with 
the passions of the human heart, and with the different 
tones, in which these should be expressed. It requires, 
also, a quick conception, to seize upon the meaning of a 
passage, so that, for the moment, the author's spirit shall 
seem to be transferred to the breast of the reader. All 
this is necessary, in order to read well ; is it, therefore, 
wonderful, that there are so few good readers ? How 
common is it, to hear a pathetic passage read with the 
coldness of indifference, a lively description without ani- 
mation, or an argumentative discourse without either force 
or emphasis. 

Rules may do something, example may do much ; but 
after all, good reading must be the effect of feeling, taste, 
and information. You can understand, that, important as 
this attainment is, it is dependent on almost every other 
branch of education. By the general improvement only 
of your minds, therefore, can you be expected to arrive 
at that perfection in this accomplishment, which a well- 
educated woman ought to exhibit. 

It is not unusual for parents, on placing their daughters 
at school, to express the wish that they may become good 
readers, before they proceed to other branches of educa- 
tion. But reason and experience pronounce it impossi- 
ble, for an ignorant person to read well ; such a one may 
acquire the habit, of calling words correctly, of minding the 
stops and marks, and observing all the artificial rules ; — 
but the soul of reading will be wanting. I would rather 
hear a person read, who did not even know that a com- 
ma is a pause of one syllable, and a semicolon of two, and 
yet could comprehend an author's meaning, and apply 
the rules which Nature suggests, than one who had ac- 
quired a servile habit of applying arbitrary rules, without 
taste, or feeling. Not that 1 would have you disregard 
rules ; but you should remember, that, as they have been 
suggested by Nature, the sense of a passage, and not its 
punctuation, should guide your reading. Nothing is more 
common than typographical errors, by which, owing to 
the misplacing of a comma, or other pause, the sense of 
a sentence is destroyed. You nuist, then, learn to judge 



94 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

for yourselves, where the sense requires a pause ; and as 
to emphasis and intonations, they must be left to your 
own judgement. A knowledge of languages, particularly 
of the Latin and French, is of great use, in assisting a 
reader, in the pronunciation of words derived from foreign 
sources. 

Some ladies appear to think it unfeminine, to read or 
speak in an audible manner, affecting a low and hsping 
tone, probably from the idea that this is an indication of 
a gentle and timid spirit ; but every person of taste and 
good sense must feel, that such notions of female dehcacy 
are false and ridiculous. The time has gone by, when it 
was necessary for a female to seem ignorant or childish, in 
order to be interesting. Women are now looked upon as 
rational beings, endowed with faculties capable of improve- 
ment, and of elevating her to a high rank in the scale of 
intelligence. Even beauty has learned, that, connected 
with ignorance and folly, she must give precedence to the 
plainest features, irradiated with intelligence and good 
sense. I speak not now of a ball, or a fashionable party, 
where external appearance forms the chief attraction, but 
of the great theatre of human life, where character devel- 
opes itself, and where all find their own proper level ; 
intellect and morals being the graduating scale. 

I shall dismiss this subject, by a quotation from an au- 
thor,* who has done much for education, and has ever 
shown himself peculiarly interested in the improvement of 
our sex. " Elocution is not sufficiently attended to, in 
the course of female education. I know, great improve- 
ments have been made, of late, in this respect, but much 
yet remains to be done. It is not enough, that a young 
lady should be taught to read with a correct pronuncia- 
tion and emphasis, and without any palpable fault ; — she 
should be taught to enter into the feelings of the author ; 
and to make the hearers feel as if he was really address- 
ing them. One very striking fault, in the reading of many 
persons, is, that they do not adapt their manner to the 
peculiar character of the composition, but always read in 
one uniform style. Perhaps there are some reasons, why 

* Gallaudet. 



READIITG. 



95 



yoLins; ladies are in danger of doing this more ihan the 
other sex ; or rather, why it is more diflicult, in their 
case, to remedy this defect. Their reading is confined 
to the fireside, and to the domestic circle ; and there 
seems to be, therefore, less of inducement for them to 
aim at the life, and variety, and force, so essemial in pub- 
lic speaking. Still, these, and every other good quality 
of the most eloquent delivery, ought to hold a liigh ran c 
among female accomplishments. I cannot understand, 
why it should be thought, as it sometimes is, a departure 
from female delicacy, to read in a promiscuous, social cir- 
cle, if called upon to do so, from any pecuhar circum- 
stances ; and to read, too, as well as Garrick himselt 
would have done, if the young lady possessed the power 
of doing it. Why may she not do this, with as much 
genuine modesty, and with as much desire to oblige her 
friends, and with as little ostentation, as to sit^ down, in 
the same circle, to the piano, and play and smg m the 
style of the first masters .? If to do the former is mak- 
ing too much of a display of her talents, why should not 
the latter be so } Nothing but some strange Ireaks ot 
fashion have made the difference. But, at any rate, 
amid her family and friends, to how many otherwise te- 
dious or useless hours of life, may a female impart both 
delight and improvement, by the charm of reading loelL 
If a wife, she can solace many a season of her husband s 
weariness or sickness. If a mother, what an advantage 
to her offspring, to have before them, as they are grow- 
ing up, a living model, in the person of one whom they 
are led to reverence and love, of an accomplishment which 
our schools, and academies, and colleges, find it so dim- 
cult to impart. This latter consideration, in my view, has 
immense weight ; for our habits of pronunciation, speak- 
ing, and reading, are first formed in childhood, and in the 
domestic circle ; and, being once formed, it is a task ot 
extreme difficulty to alter them." 

It has been observed, that a person may have genius, 
without being a good reader ; but no one can be a good 
reader, without genius. When you find how many are 
the requisites for this accomplishment, you will learn 



96 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

not to esteem it lightly, or as a thing which may be 
gained in childhood ; but one, towards whose perfection 
all the different branches of knowledge tend. Music 
is a refined and intellectual enjoyment ; but the occasions 
for it, in ordinary life, are far less frequent than for read- 
ing aloud. In all the pursuits of youth, this should ever 
be the main object of inquiry : What attainments loill 
render me most useful and agreeable to others, and tend 
most to my own elevation and happiness ? 



CHAPTER XII. 

GRAMMAR. 

It is not until after a child has learned to use nouns, 
verbs, prepositions, and other parts of speech, that he 
knows them as such : — in other words, he becomes fa- 
miliar with language, before he learns its philosophy. So 
it is with much of our knowledge ; we are conversant with 
the subjects, before we understand their natures. 

The mechanic becomes familiar with the use of the 
pulley, wedge, and inclined plane, and is able to perform 
various operations by their aid, without knowing any thing 
of mechanical philosophy. We exercise our various men- 
tal faculties, — we reason, remember, and compare, long 
before we are able to comprehend the nature of these op- 
erations. 

Language was not formed according to the rules of 
grammar, but grammar was made to conform itself to 
those forms of language, w^hich had previously been es- 
tablished. A child learns to speak, without knowing any 
thing of the rules of grammar ; and people, ignorant of 
the principles and rules of language, are often able to 
write, with tolerable accuracy. Such persons, however, 
feel their own deficiency in this respect ; they know that 
they are continually liable to errors. A mariner might 
chance to steer his bark aright, without a compass ; but 
he would feel nmch more secure, if provided with the 
means of ascertaining the correctness of his course. 



GRAMMAR. Sl? 

Man, perceiving effects ^ is led to trace them to their 
causes, though, in tliis process, he often proceeds by slow 
degrees. (Jod views the first, as first ; that is, causes, 
and the effects following them. Human nature must be 
satisfied to advance from the more imperfect and com- 
plex, to the more perfect and simple ; for, in general, 
objects are first familiar to us as complex. A child can 
readily understand this proposition, — the sun shines ; but 
it requires study and reflection, to be able to analyze it 
into an article, a noun, and a verb ; to separate these 
again into syllables, the syllables into letters, and then to 
explain the difference in the sounds and powers of these 
letters. The lowest human beings, in the scale of knowl- 
edge, (with the exception of the deaf and dumb,) have 
some kind of spoken language. Many savage tribes 
know notliing of written language. In our country, there 
are, however, few so ignorant, as not to know how to 
read and write ; but there are many, who know nothing 
of grammar, or those rules and principles on which their 
own language is founded ; and there are still fewer, who 
compreliend those broad and general principles of gram- 
mar, which are common to all languages, and make up 
the science o( universal grammar. 

No person can be considered as having a liberal edu- 
cation, who has not studied at least one language, besides 
his own ; and yet there are pedantic grammarians, who, 
with no other knowledge, than that gained from the study 
of the English language, assume to understand the princi- 
ples on which it is founded, and to be able to give rules 
for every doubtful case in parsing. More knowledge of 
the intricacies of language would teach such, that the 
English, being composed of a mixture of other languages, 
on principles common to them, and yet, in many cases, 
essentially varying from established principles, necessari- 
ly presents many irregularities ; instead, therefore, of at- 
tempting to prove all cases to be conformable to rules, 
we must often cut the gordian knot, by admitting a case to 
be anomalous, or sanctioned only by custom. 

The study of languages, then, besides affording an ex- 
cellent discipline for the mind, and presenting new and 
9 XVIII. 



93 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

rich sources of knowledge, is important, in teaching the 
principles on which our own language is founded. But all 
cannot enjoy the opportunities, necessary for this acqui- 
sition ; many are restricted to a short period of school 
education, during which, it is desirable that they should 
make such attainments, as will be most important in after- 
life. It would be absurd, for a person to attempt to lay 
a broad foundation, with the knowledge that he should 
never be able to raise a superstructure. 

A young lady, having merely received the rudiments 
of an EngHsh education, as afforded by a common school, 
and who is allowed, only for six months, or a year, the ad- 
vantage of a higher school, should not be encouraged to 
attempt more than she can accomplish within the allotted 
period. The higher branches of education, and the ac- 
complishments of music, drawing, &c., should not take 
the place of grammar, geography, arithmetic, and history. 
The natural sciences are within the reach of every one, 
who can count the stamens of a flower, see the difference 
between quartz and mica, or observe the different prop- 
erties of oxygen and nitrogen. In these sciences, every 
step exhibits Nature under a new aspect, and in becoming 
familiar with them, the mind is gaining knowledge which 
will be useful and interesting, in every station and cir- 
cumstance of life. 

English grammar is now a very common study. It is 
almost universally taught in our common schools, and 
constitutes one of the earliest pursuits of students. It has 
its simple distinctions, which can be understood by the 
child, but it contains subtilties, which elude the grasp of 
the strongest and most mature intellect. 

In the former, and less improved, state of education, a 
pupil, commencing the study of grammar, was required to 
commit to memory, page after page of principles, rules, 
and exceptions : these he was required to repeat, before 
commencing the important process o{ parsing. In some 
cases, teachers continued to keep their pupils to the reci- 
tation of grammar lessons, concealing their own ignorance, 
by pretending, that it was necessary to understand every 
word of the book, before they could begin to make an 



GRAMMAR. 99 

application of its principles and rules. Other teachers 
there were, who really believed that this repeating by 
rote constituted the whole mystery of the science, and 
who doubted not, but in hearing their pupils recite, they 
were teaching grammar, in the most profitable manner. 

Since those days of grammatical darkness and error, 
books have been prepared on new principles of teaching, 
and the inductive method has been generally adopted.* 
Here the pupil begins, at once, to distinguish a sentence 
into its different parts. Rules are not presented, until 
the mind is led to perceive their application. There is, 
however, still a tendency to a great fault, in both the 
teaching and learning of grammar ; this is, to make pars- 
ings rather than the application of grammatical rules to 
writing and conversation^ the ultimate object. 

We do not often hear people say, I is^ you am, &c. ; 
but ladies, who claim to be well educated, not unfrequent- 
ly say, " I loill lay down,^^ using the word lay^ which is 
the past tense of the verb to lie, as if it were the future. 
The participle is sometimes used for the verb, as " he 
done,''^ '' / 56671," instead of " /le did,^^ '■'■I saw.'''' We 
often hear adjectives improperly used as adverbs, as " she 
dances beautiful,'''' instead of beautifully. Will is often 
used for shall as " / will not have time.'''' The improper 
use of these two auxiliaries is well illustrated, in an anec- 
dote of a foreigner, who, falling into a river, piteously 
exclaimed, " / will drown, nobody shall help me.'* 
That foreigners should thus mistake the power of two 
words, so analogous in many respects, is not strange ; 
but those, who study the English grammar, should apply 
in practice, their knowledge that shall, used in the first 
person, singular, sim^Xj foretells ; while loill, in the same 
person and number, implies a resolution, or determina- 
tion. 

* No elementary work has probably been of greater general utili- 
ty, than ' Greenleafs Grammar Simplified.' The teacher, who is 
ignorant of the science, cannot but be made acquainted with it by the 
simple and easy tnunner in which parsing, or the analytical part of 
grammar, is taught. Brown's, Ingersoll's, and Kirkham's, grammars 
are valuable for more advanced pupils. 



100 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

It is necessary, then, that you should bear in mind, 
that parsing, and learning rules, are mechanical and use- 
less, unless you make an application of these exercises 
to writing and conversation. The slightest offence against 
grammatical accuracy should be avoided, by people of 
education, and yet such offences are much more common, 
than you may at first imagine. The substitution of which 
for whoj the use of the perfect for the imperfect tense., or 
the imperfect for the pluperfect^ the improper use of the 
potential mode, &c., give rise to errors, which, though 
not of the grossest kind, are yet quickly perceived by a 
philologist. Perhaps I have here used a term not famil- 
iar to all my young readers ; I will therefore observe, 
that philology is derived from the Greek (pi>^o;, philos, 
fond, and Xoyoc, logos^ a word, or discourse, and sig- 
nifies a love for, or a knowledge of, words. Accor- 
ding to the present acceptation of the term, philology im- 
plies a critical knowledge of language, considered both 
rhetorically and grammatically. To be a philologist, 
then, requires a higher effort of mind, a more enlarged 
view of language, than to be a grammarian. But in or- 
der to be a grammarian, it is not sufficient that you cai^ 
parse sentences, in that kind of parrot-hke manner, which 
is acquired by those who study without much thought ; 
you must be able to perceive the meaning of an author, 
the connection between the words of a sentence, however 
distant, and to supply words, in elliptical cases. Some 
of the English poets are peculiar, for their great use of 
ellipses ; some, especially, in the expression of suddeo, 
passion, leaving, not one word merely, but several, to be 
supplied by the reader. 

A fashion too much prevails among the young, of con- 
sidering English grammar as a study only proper for 
children. Young ladies at school sometimes exhibit im- 
patience, on being called upon to devote time to the re- 
view of this science. But no young lady need fear that 
she has exhausted the subject of grammar, or that a few 
hours in a week, devoted to the analysis of J^'ngHsh poe- 
try, will not present her vvith difiicullies enough to exer- 
cise her intellect. 



GRAMMAR. 101 

You may say, '^ If grammar requires deep thought, why 
are children so early put to the study of it ?" We would 
answer, that there are simple truths in this science, which 
children can soon comprehend ; as the distinction between 
the parts of speech. They can readily understand the 
nature of a noun, and this knowledge gives them many 
new ideas. We tell them that every thing, in existence, 
is a noun ; all that they can see, hear, touch, smell, or 
taste, are nouns ; at first, it may seem to them that no 
other words are necessary, but the names of these thmgs ; 
but of the names of real objects, how small a part of our 
vocabulary consists ! The child soon learns, that we must 
have words to express actions done to, or clone by, these 
things, which we call nouns ; thus his mind can readily 
comprehend, that there m.ay be words which do not stand 
for things, but relate to their manner of acting, or their 
state of existence, and that these words are called verbs. 
It is easy, also, for him to understand, that these things, 
called nouns, have different qualities ; as fire is hot, snow 
is ivhite, one person is good, and another, bad ; and that 
the words, denoting these qualities, are called adjectives, 
which means, words added to nouns. Thus, you observe, 
the young mind, by the study of grammar, h led to form 
an idea of things or material objects, of actions or modes 
of existence, and of qualities, which do not exist, of them- 
selves, but are inseparable from the things in which they 
are found. Now, all this is philosophy ; but it may be 
easily comprehended by a child, old enough to understand 
the difference between two and four. 

Thus simple, are the elements of grammar. But the 
science contains divisions and subdivisions, exceptions to 
general rules, and exceptions differently modified ; so that, 
as before remarked, while children can understand its ele- 
ments, the philosopher is lost in the subtihies of its com- 
pounds. While employed in this study, you are giving 
exercise to your menial powers, invigorating them for new 
labors, and, at the same time, are gaining knowledge, 
which will be called into use, with every sentence you 
speak or write. It is very important, that those, who 
are preparing themselves for teachers, should obtain a 
9* 



^(^ THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

thorough knowledge of English grammar. In correcting 
inaccuracies, in spoken and written language, a teacher 
should not only be able to point out defects, but the rules 
which are violated. 

In concluding my remarks, upon a branch of education 
so important, and yet, through inattention and careless- 
ness, so often pursued with little advantage, let me ad- 
monish you against that mental indolence, which frequent- 
ly defeats the efforts of parents and teachers. Knowledge 
cannot, like houses and lands, be purchased by money. 
All that your parents or teachers can do is, to place 
within your reach the instruments of acquiring it. If you 
refuse to use them ; if your minds are not active, to ob- 
serve, compare, and remember ; it will be in vain that 
you are placed in situations, where facilities for improve- 
ment are offered. Books and lectures are of no avail 
to that mind, which is too inert to rouse itself into action, 
and seize the truths which are exhibited. There is, in 
the mind, a tendency to sloth ; but it also contains princi- 
ples, which counteract this love of ease. Of these, are 
a desire for knowledge, an ambition to excel, and, in 
many persons, the higher moral motive, of cultivating 
the talents committed to their charge, from a sense of 
duty to God. But these incitements to action are some- 
times feeble. How often are the minds of pupils slum- 
bering in torpid inactivity, while others are exerting all 
their energies, to impart instruction to them ; how often 
is the listless eye of the pupil fixed, in vacancy of thought, 
upon some trifling object, or the mind wandering on some 
past pleasure, or anticipating some future enjoyment, 
while teachers, with intense anxiety to discharge their 
high responsibilities, are exerting all their powers to ex- 
plain something which they feared might not be under- 
stood, or to communicate such knowledge as the pupil 
will need, in her future progress in life. Would not a 
spectator, ignorant of the truth, suppose the teacher, and 
not the scholar, was to be the gainer by her attention ! 

I have read of a certain professor, who always lectured 
to one particular student, regulating his discourses by his 
appearance ; when he looked as if he did not comprehend 



ANCIEl^tT LANGUAGES. 103 

the subject, the professor perceived that his explanation 
had not been clear, and endeavored to illustrate his ideas 
more fully ; when the student's countenance was illumin- 
ed with the glow of intelligence, the professor knew that 
he was understood, and that his instructions had taken ef- 
fect. How different are the expressions of countenance, 
which an observing teacher beholds in a class before him ! 
How does a youthful countenance, lighted up by the soul 
within, animate him in the discharge of his duties ! 

Would that the young could realize the importance of 
the season of youth, as a preparation for future life. The 
Scriptures point out two classes of people, the wise and 
the foolish. Though intellectual gifts are not always most 
conspicuous in the most virtuous, it is generally the case, 
that the latter more assiduously seek to make a suitable 
improvement of advantages afforded them. In every 
large collection of human beings, assembled for the pur- 
pose of instruction, we are struck by contrasts ; some 
seek to know the truth, and to learn their duty ; while 
others, — alas, too many ! appear forgetful of the weighty 
interests which hang upon the present moment. 



CHAPTER Xni. 

ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 

In remarking upon the study of the ancient languages, 
I would wish you to understand, that I do not recommend 
it, except where circumstances permit a liberal course of 
education. I am far from insisting, that all young ladies 
should become Latin and Greek scholars, or even at- 
tempt to acquire the rudiments of any other language than 
their own. 

It is the pride of American schools and colleges, that 
all classes may meet within their walls, on terms of equal- 
ity, except as talents and moral worth impart distinction. 
Our country is, perhaps, tlie only one on the globe which 
exhibits such a scene. In England, the nobility would 



104 FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

feel it a degradation, to liave their children educated in 
companionship with the untitled. The gentry, who may 
not aspire to mingle with the nobility, recoil from plebeian 
contamination. In the English universities, it is true, all 
may find admittance, who are suitably qualified for en- 
trance ; but the sons of the nobility have their peculiar 
privileges. The commoners are not permitted to eat 
with them ; and by this, and various other distinctions, 
are constantly reminded of their own inferiority. 

Unfortunate state of things ! when the one class, being 
led to feel that rank alone can give elevation, are thus de- 
prived of an important stimulus to mental effovi ; and the 
other, depressed by the abjectness of their situation, can 
scarcely hope, by the greatest efforts, to rise above the 
sphere in which Nature has placed them ! 

In our country we acknowledge no hereditary claims to 
respect, which can set aside the superior claims of merit ; 
and if the attempt be made, to render any school, in our 
country, of an exclusive character, it must, from the very 
genius of our government, and the nature of our institutions, 
prove as abortive, as it would be ridiculous. 

It is, indeed, true, that the possession of wealth often in- 
spires parents with the desire of purchasing distinction for 
their children ; and there are those, who, availing them- 
selves of this desire, engage in education, professedly for 
the higher classes^ only. .They make such requirements, 
as the furnishing of pupils with expensive articles of silver 
plate for the table., and other costly equipments, and these 
are followed up by such extravagant demands for board and 
instruction, that none but the most wealthy can encoun- 
ter the expense. Thus it is, that, without any other re- 
commendation than extravagant charges, an expensive 
school is sought for by some, as giving a certain eclat and 
exclusiveness to those who are rich enough to belong to it. 

But, how did the parents of these pupils gain their 
wealth ? In most cases, by habits of industry and econ- 
omy. But their children are taught to des|)ise these vir- 
tues, to consider themselves not born to patient and perse- 
vering applications ; not to earn, but to spend, money. 
They learn to look with contempt upon what they consid- 



ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 105 

eF the narrow views of tbeir parents ; while, trusting in 
the weahh which those parents have accumulated, they 
are puffed up with notions of their own consequence, and 
the deference which will be paid them, when they mingle 
with the world. But, when the heads of their indulgent, 
but injudicious, parents shall have been laid in the dust, 
when their hoarded thousands shall have been spent in 
extravagance, by their pampered children, then shall these 
children sink into obscurity and insignificance. Their 
despised inferiors, disciplined and strengthened by habits 
of industry, soon get far ahead, in the race of honorable 
competition ; and thus are verified those words of Holy 
Writ, " The last shall be first, and the first last." 

I have digressed from our subject, to show you, that, al- 
though a different course of study may be recommended to 
pupils under different circumstances, we hold to principles, 
congenial with the spirit of our republican government. 

Mankind must act according to existing circumstances 
and prospects. In accordance with these views, we must 
advise the young to pursue such studies, as seem most 
fitted to their condition in life. And yet we well know, 
that future prospects may be illusive. Many a piano and 
harp have been destined to an auction sale, while their ac- 
complished mistress has been forced to exchange an ele- 
gant house and furniture, for the coarsest accommodations. 
But an energetic female, under such circumstances, will 
make her accomphshments subservient to useful purposes, 
in gaining, by their means, an honorable and independent 
support. 

While changes like these may befal the affluent, the 
humble and uneducated may be raised to conspicuous sta- 
tions ; and this furnishes a strong argument in favor of 
education for all. The rich may need it for a support ; 
the poor, to dignify their future elevation. Never was the 
liability to a change of condition more strikingly exemplifi- 
ed, than in the present state of commercial and pecuniary 
affairs. The parent, who can now educate his child, 
knows not how soon he may be deprived of all he posses- 
ses. But, thougli the wealth, destined for his family, may 
be taken from him, their education is inalienable. 



106 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

When the situation of a parent allows the opportunity 
of a liberal course of study, I consider that the languages 
should form the basis of education ; that girls, as well as 
boys, should be put to the study of Latin, as soon as they 
are able to read intelligibly.* A child of six or seven 
years of age can learn the conjugations of verbs, the de- 
clensions of nouns, pronouns, and adjectives. The mem- 
ory, at this age, is active and retentive ; and, if the other 
mental powers are, at the same time, cultivated, there will 
be no danger of their suffering by the efforts of this. 

The exercise of translating, from one language to an- 
other, calls up the powers of comparison and abstraction, 
quickens the imagination, matures the judgement, and gives 
enlarged views of the general principles of language. 

In addition to the utility of the study of Latin, as a dis- 
cipline of the mind, we must count, among one of its im- 
portant advantages, the facilities which it gives for the 
attainment of those modern languages, which are derived 
from it. Our own language has borrowed much from the 
Latin. The Saxon was the language of England, when 
that country was subdued by the Romans, under Julius 
Caesar. Like all conquered nations, the Enghsh gradually 
suffered a change in their language ; and thus, the language 
of the Romans became incorporated with that of the Sax- 
ons ; and, in process of time, the Danish and Norman' 
conquests effected still greater changes. 

The Latin language was so named, from the Latins, 
the people of ancient Latium, where Rome was after- 
wards founded. The classical Latin of the Roman poets 
and orators was not, however, the language of the com- 
mon people, who had a dialect of their own. 

The Latin language, like the character of the ancient 
Romans, is forcible and majestic. Among its most dis- 
tinguished prose writers, w^ere Cicero, Tacitus, Sallust, 

* I am aware that this is a controverted point ; but T believe thnt 
persons engaged in education are becoming more confirmed in their 
opinions, in fnvor of giving to young females some knowledge of the 
ancient languages. Mr. Emerson's lecture on female education, de- 
livered before the American Institute of Instruction, contains some ex- 
cellent and judicious remarks on this subject. 



ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 107 

Livy, and Caesar ; its most celebrated poets, were Hor- 
ace, Ovid, and Virgil. This language is still used by the 
Ilonian Calliolics, in their public prayers, and is spoken, 
familiarly, by the learned of Europe, particularly in Ger- 
many. 

An elegant writer* observes, '•^ There is not a single 
language of modern Europe, in which literature has mado 
any considerable advances, which is not directly of Ro- 
man origin, or has not incorporated, into its very struc- 
ture, many of the; idioms and peculiarities of the ancient 
tongues. The English language affords strong illustration 
of the truth of this remark. It abounds with words and 
meanings, drawn from classical sources. Innumerable 
phrases retain the symmetry of their ancient dress. In- 
numerable expressions have received their vivid tints from 
the beautiful dyes of Roman and Grecian roots." 

The same writer, remarking upon the rich treasures of 
ancient literature, and the idea that these can be conveyed 
to the mind, through the medium of translations, says, 
" These may all he read in our vernacular tongue. Aye, 
as one remembers the face of a dear friend, by gathering 
up the broken fragments of his image, — as one listens to 
the tale of a dream, twice told, — as one catches the roar 
of the ocean, in a ripple of a rivulet, — as one sees the 
blaze of noon, in the 6rst glimmer of twilight." 

It is not, however, to be expected, that, among the 
many pursuits, to which the female mind must be direc- 
ted, and with the short period which is allowed them for 
education, many young ladies will acquire that facility, in 
reading Latin, which is necessary to the enjoyment of its 
classical literature. But a knowledge of the principles, 
on which this noble language is constructed, and a limited 
acquaintance with its beauties, are invaluable. 

Why should these be denied to us, merely because we 
are women ? I know it has been customary, among many, 
to ridicule the idea of females pursuing what are called 
masculine studies. The excellent and wise Hannah More 
was so intimidated by this, that, in her story of 'Coelebs,' 

* Judge Story. 



108 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

she makes her heroine dread the discovery of her study- 
ing Latin, as if it were a crime, and overwhehns her with 
blushes and confusion, when the secret is revealed. 

When such occurrences shall no longer be rare, then 
will they cease to excite astonishment ; and females may 
be allowed to read Virgil, or even Homer, with as little 
cause for blushes, as if they were working lace, or embroi- 
dering tnuslin. 

In some essays on female education, ascribed to the 
Countess of Carlisle, I find the following remarks : ""As 
for Homer and Virgil, I fancy you must be content to 
taste these, as pure as the labors of the learned afford 
them, the Greek and Latin tongues forming no part, in 
the pohte system of female education, at present, nor 
certainly ever can, in the useful." It is probable, that, 
had her ladyship been permitted to test the utility of 
these studies, by experience, she might have judged dif- 
ferently ; she would probably have gained from them, a 
better knowledge of the construction of English senten- 
ces, than is exhibited in the preceding quotation, some 
parts of which, it would certainly puzzle a grammarian 
to parse, according to any rules of the English grammar. 
It is a little surprising, that she should have decided so pos- 
itively on this subject, especially as she had observed, in 
a preceding sentence, that" it is a property of ignorance, 
to esteem nothing valuable, that it does not comprehend." 

In the study of the Latin, or any other language, the 
Student may feel encouraged by the consideration, that 
every step he advances is rendering the next more easy ; 
and especially, by the thought, that, when he has once ac- 
quired a knowledge of the general principles of language, 
the acquisition of new tongues can be made with facility. 
After learning one foreign language, you can probably 
learn two more, with less labor than was required for the 
first. In possession of three languages, you could prob- 
ably acquire six, in less time than the first ; and so on, in a 
compound ratio. This may seem extravagant ; but the 
testimony of those, who have been distinguished for their 
extensive acquaintance with languages, goes to confirm the 
opinion. 



ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 109 

The elements of the Greek language are by no means 
as difficult of attainment, as is generally believed. The 
alphabet may be learned in a few hours ; and, after study- 
ing a pronoun, a verb, and a noun, the pupil can commence 
the translation of such simple sentences, as contain words 
analogous to those whose declension and conjugation have 
been studied.* Other nouns, verbs, &c., can then be 
studied, and application be made as before. In this way, 
even a (ew weeks of study, of the Greek language, may 
prove of great advantage. 

To be a Greek scholar requires more time and labor, 
than females, in general, can give from their other pursuits ; 
and, should some proceed so far in the study, as to per- 
ceive the difficulties still to be surmounted, a sense of 
their own comparative ignorance, should tend to render 
them humble and unpretending, rather than confident and 
pedantic. 

This harmonious and beautiful language is that of Aris- 
totle, Pindar, Homer, and many other sublime writers, 
whose works contain the germs of most of the discoveries 
in science, upon which the moderns so much pride them- 
selves. 

" It was Homer," says an energetic writer, f *' who 
gave laws to the artist ; it was Homer, who thundered in 
the senate ; and, more than all, it was Homer, who was 
sung by the people ; and hence, a nation was cast into the 
mould of one mighty mind, and the land of the Iliad became 
the region of taste, the birthplace of the arts. Nor was 
this influence confined within the limits of Greece. Long 
after the sceptre of empire had passed westward, genius 
still held her courts on the banks of the Ilissus, and, from 
the country of Homer, gave laws to the world. The light, 
which the blind old man of Scio had kindled in Greece, 
shed its radiance over Italy ; and thus did he awaken a 
second nation to intellectual existence. And we may 
form some idea of the power which this one work has, to 

* A small work, by Professor Goodrich, entitled, ' Lessons in Greek 
Parsing,' conducts the pupil, in this easy and agreeable manner, through 
the elements of the lan^uajje. 

t President Wayland. 

10 XVIII. 



110 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the present day, exerted over the mind of man, by remark- 
ing, that nation after nation, and century after century, 
has been able to do little more than transpose his inci- 
dents, new name his characters, and paraphrase his sen- 
timents." 

The language of Homer, with the fortunes of Greece, 
has undergone an essential change, and is modified with 
the intermixture of the Turkish, and some other modern 
languages. The modern Greek, though highly melodious, 
is far less distinguished for sublimity, than the ancient. 

Many of our scientific terms are derived from the 
Greek. In botany, the names of the classes and orders 
of plants may be traced to this source ; as monadelphiaj 
from 5*01/05, monos^ alone, or single, and a^sXcpo?, adelphos, 
a brother, and means one brotherhood, alluding to the 
stamens of a flower being united by their filaments, in a 
single set, or brotherhood. In chemistry, we have the 
word oxygen^ from o|t^«, oxiis, acid, and y^vof^ui, ginomai^ 
to be. Many words, not considered technical, are of 
Greek origin, as athletic^* gymnastic^j theatre,\. &c.; 
theology^ from ^£o$, theos, God, and >.oyo$, logos, a word 
or discourse, signifying the science which treats of God ; 
physics, from (pva-^^, physis, material nature, and metaphys^ 
ics, signifying the study of what is above or beyond matter. 

Those who have merely learned enough of the Greek 
language, to trace the derivation of words, have gained a 
key to an important branch of knowledge, which will cause 
their own language to appear in a new and interesting light. 

The Greek language is that in which tlie New Testa- 
ment was written. To be able to read this holy volume, 
in the original, is a very important attainment, and, on 
account of the simplicity of the style, less difficult, than 
is generally imagined. To an English lady,§ literature 
is indebted for an excellent translation of Epictetus, one 
of the Grecian moral poets. 

* From the Greek a^Xijri]?, athleies, a wrestler. 

t From yvf4,vu(nov, gymnasion, a place where athletic exercises were 
performed. 

t From ^ict-TQav, theairon, a place where shows were exhibited. 

§ Mrs. Elizabeth Carter. 



ANCIENT LANGUAGES. Ill 

The Hebrew is the language of the ancient Israelites, 
and that in which the Old Testament was written. It is 
supposed to be the most ancient language, now known. 
The Jews still make use of it, in their synagogues. A 
knowledge of the Hebrew is highly important for minis- 
ters of the gospel, in order that they may understand the 
Scriptures of the Old Testament, in their original strength 
and beauty. Few ladies attempt this study. Its connec- 
tion with our own language, or with science, is but slight. 
The alchymists, however, had borrowed many terms from 
this language ; and these words, along with the fragments 
of the science, have become incorporated with chemistry. 

For the encouragement of those, who may desire to 
become acquainted with languages, I will introduce a pas- 
sage from the biography of Elizabeth Smith, of England, 
who died at the commencement of the present century. 
She early showed a great desire for instruction, and de- 
voted that time, which is often spent in trifling amuse- 
ments, to the acquisition of knowledge. Under adverse 
circumstances of fortune, which allowed her few advan- 
tages, she early learned the Spanish and Italian languages, 
and became familiar with geometry. After this, she ac- 
quired the German, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, languages, 
and made considerable progress in the Arabic and Persian. 
She was a very fine musician ; and those ladies, who de- 
Vote almost their whole time to this single accomplish- 
ment, may feel astonished, that one of their own sex 
should have been able to unite with it, such proficiency 
in abstruse sciences. She was, at the same time, remark- 
able, for attention to domestic employments, and for her 
delicate taste in dress, displaying as much skill, in making 
a gown or cap, as in explaining a problem in Euclid, or 
a difficult passage in Hebrew. Of her Hebrew transla- 
tions, one of the most learned scholars of Europe observes, 
*' This work strikes me as conveying more of the true 
character and meaning of the Hebrew, than any other 
translation that we possess." This character, so perfect 
in intellect, so pure and amiable in morals, possessed also 
that crowning ornament, without which, as a whole, it 
would have been imperfect, — piety. She was called to 



112 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

an early grave ; but the embalming spirit of religion had 
anointed her body for burial, and preserving, in all their 
loveliness, the beautiful lineaments of her mind, prepared 
it for a high station among those pure and holy intelli- 
gences, who differ, in degrees of knowledge and happi- 
ness, as "one star differeth from another star in glory." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MODERN LANGUAGES. FRENCH, ITALIAN, AND SPANISH, 

LITERATURE. 

Some of the modern tongues, especially the French, 
Italian, and Spanish, are generally admitted to be desir- 
able accomplislimenls for young ladies. Facilities for ac- 
quiring these are, however, less frequent, than for learn- 
ing Latin and Greek. I refer, here, to those cases in 
which girls are educated at home, during the first twelve 
or fourteen years. 

People who reside in country towns, unless in the vi- 
cinity of literary institutions, seldom have an opportunity 
of learning the modern tongues, from well qualified teach- 
ers, as such can find more eligible situations in populous 
places. But there are few places, where a person might 
not be found, competent to teach the dead languages.* 
The clergyman, lawyer, or physician, of the parish, would 
probably be willing to devote a small portion of time to 
a review of his classical studies ; or a young lady's father 
or brother might be able to assist her, in acquiring the el- 
ements of those languages. A pupil, thus prepared to 
commence French, or any other modern language, may 
be expected to make rapid progress. 

There are English teachers of the French, who, by long 
practice, have acquired a tolerably correct pronunciation ; 
but, in general, it is preferable to commence this language 
under a native teacher. The Spanish pronunciation, be- 

*By the " dend languages" are meant, those languages which are 
not now spoken by any nation, sucli as the Latin and ancient Greek. 



MODERN LANGUAGES. 113 

ing much more easy to an English tongue, may be better 
taught by an Enghsh leachei', than the French or Itahan. 
The Italian is less difhcult than the French. 

Books which attempt to give the sounds of French 
words, by combinations of English letters, always mislead 
a studcjit. For example, — in a woik, professing to be a 
guide to French pronunciation, I (Ind a direction to pro- 
nounce the word brouillard^ a storm, thus, '-'• broolar i^" 
the / being marked as silent, the pronunciation would 
be hroo-ar. Those who are accustomed to the peculiar 
changes of some of the organs of sjieech, in the pronun- 
ciation of the French liquid sounds, will at once perceive 
the impossibility of expressing the same by any combina- 
tion of English sounds. I might add many other exam- 
ples, equally tending to show that the French, as a spoken 
language, must be learned orally. Those, who have not 
the advantages of acquiring the French accent, may, even 
without a teacher, learn to translate the language. While 
no other tongue is so difficult to pronounce as the French, 
no other is so easily translated into English. 

At the present time, the French is more generally 
spoken, than any language in the world. It is a medium 
of communication, common to the polite, as the Latin is 
to the learned. It is the language in which the diplo- 
matic correspondence of the diflerent courts of Europe is 
usually carried on. It is a familiar sound in the streets of 
St. Petersburg, Rome, London, and New York. The 
educated South American speaks French, almost like a 
Parisian ; and few of the inhabitants of the West India 
islands are ignorant of the language. In many parts of 
Canada, and Louisiana, it is the prevailing tongue. 

We see, then, how valuable must be a language, so 
extensive in its use ; and opportunities of acquiring it, in 
its native elegance of pronunciation, should be prized and 
improved. 

The French literature is rich and diversified. It is 
not, however, to be expected, that all, who study this 
language, will become so familiar with it, as to be able to 
speak or even to read it with fluency ; but it should be 
accounted no useless attainment, to be able to translate 
10* 



114 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the occasional French sentences, which you will meet 
with, in the course of your English reading. At the pres- 
ent day, scarcely a new publication appears, which does 
not contain more or less French words or sentences. 
They are also much introduced into conversation ; and 
we are constantly hearing people, (and among these, 
some who know nothing oT the language, except as they 
provide themselves for particular occasions,) expressing 
themselves after the French idioms, and in French phrases. 
Many of the French words, which may be considered 
as adopted into our own language, are still pronounced 
with their original French sounds, as debut, depot, eclat,* 
&c. It would appear ludicrous, to a polite ear, to hear 
these words pronounced according to the analogies of 
the English. 

French Literature. 

A sketch of the history of the French language, with 
some remarks upon its literature, may not be useless, or 
uninteresting. The French language is, comparatively, 
of modern origin. France was anciently called Gaul, or 
Gallia. The first inhabitants of this country, mentioned 
in history, were the Celts. Some vestiges of their lan- 
guage are said to appear in the dialect of the peasants of 
Brittany, in France, which is called the Armoric. When 
Gaul was conquered by the Romans, under Julius Cffisar, 
the Latin was introduced, as it was into England, about 
the same time. The language of the Franks, and other 
savage tribes, gradually became incorporated with that of 
the Gauls and the Romans ; and the whole formed a cor- 
rupt dialect, which was called the Romance, or Roman 
rustic ; because spoken by the peasantry, who had mixed 
their own language with Latin words and idioms. This 
dialect was divided into two branches, which received 
their names from the respective modes of pronouncing 
the terms for the affirmative, yes. In the southern part 
of France, diis was expressed by Oc, and their dialect 
was called langue c?' Oc, (the language of Oc,) or Oc- 
citanic dialect. North of the Loire, where yes was ex- 

* Pronounced dd-bu, de-po, ai-hlah. 



FRENCH LITERATURE. 115 

pressed by owi, the language was called langue d^ out. 
From the latter was derived the modern French. In 
the twelfth century, the south of France was united un- 
der one government, called Provence ; the langue d'' Oc 
then took tlie name of Provencal,* and the nortiiern dia- 
lect assumed the name of French. The accent of die 
people in the soudi of P' ranee, at this time, differs con- 
siderably from that of the Parisian. 

It was about this period that the Troubadours, or wan- 
dering minstrels, gave to the French people a taste for 
poetry and romance. The Crusades had served to fos- 
ter the most extravagant passions, and had given rise to 
the most romantic incidents. The human muid, glowing 
with new and tender images, and luxuriating in the unre- 
strained freedom of those lawless days, exhibited estrange 
mixture of wildness and refinement. This was a period 
peculiar to itself, and one which has furnished modern fic- 
tion with its choicest materials. The very term of chiv- 
alry, or the name of knight or troubadour, seems to call up 
the spirit of curiosity, and give interest to a tale or song.f 
The song of the Troubadour was heard, with equal 
delight, in the castle and in the cottage, by courtly dames 
and humble peasants. None of the productions of these 
poets are now celebrated in literature. 

The fifteenth century produced a poet, of great taste 
and sweetness, — Charles d'Orleans, father of Louis XII., 
and uncle of Francis I. He composed most of his poe- 
try while imprisoned in England, whither he was carried, 
after having been captured at the batde of Agincourt. 
Cotemporary with this poet, was Clotilde de Surville, ma- 
ny of vvhose thoughts are strikingly beautiful, aiid whose 
style is highly polished, for the time in which slie wrote. 
In 1539, Francis I., called the Father of letters, estab- 
lished a professorship of the French language, and forbade 
the use of the Latin, in public documents and judicial 

* The ntark under the c, in the word Provencal, is the French ce- 
dilla, which denotes that c has the sound of s. 

t Mrs, Hemans's popular song of 

" Tlie knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower," 
is thus most happily chosen for effect. 



116 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

proceedings. During his reign, the language was greatly 
improved ; and literary nrien received the most munificent 
encouragement. Clement Marot, a poet of those days, 
is said to have used every effort to reform the barbarities 
of his language, and to introduce refined and elegant ex- 
pressions. He acknowledged, that to the conversation of 
pohshed females, he was indebted for the improvements 
which he introduced. 

In 1635, the Acadamie Frangaise^ consisting of forty 
members, was established by Cardinal Richelieu. To 
this body was consigned the care of the language and lit- 
erature of the nation. 

In 1694, was published the Dictionary of the Acade- 
my, Vv'hich continued to be the standard of the French 
language, until the Revolution of 1789 ; since which time, 
new words and phrases, corresponding to a new state of 
things, have gradually been introduced. 

To Malherbe, a man of great genius and learning, 
whose labors preceded the. reign of Louis XIV., is as- 
cribed the honor of having rescued the French language, 
more effectually, from foreign idioms, than any other wri- 
ter had done. So peremptorily did he insist on this point, 
that he was called the " Tyrant of loords and syllables ;^^ 
and it is said, that, when in the hour of death his confes- 
sor was expatiating on the joys of Heaven, he begged him 
not to speak on such a subject, in language so vulgar and 
inaccurate. 

The reign of Louis XIV. is considered as the Augus- 
tan age* of French literature. Montaigne, at this period, 
complained of the fluctuating character of his language, 
and endeavored to give it energy and stability. Corneille, 
Moliere, Racine, and Voltaire, successively occupied the 
public with their dramatic wiitings. Fenelon, the amia- 
ble and pious author of Telemachus, distinguished himself 
for several valuable and interesting works. Rousseau ren- 

*The Augustan age was so called, from its being the period when 
the Roman Emperor, Augustus, flourished. He was a great patron of 
learning and the polite arts, whicli flourished to a high degree, during 
his reign. From this circunistance, the term Augusitan age is fre- 
quently applied to the most flourishing period of learning, in any other 
country. 



FRENCH LITERATURE. 117 

dered himself famous, for talents, and infamous, for the 
abuse of them. Condillac was an able metapliysical wri- 
ter, of a later period. Although professing himself a dis- 
ciple of Locke, he seems to have misconceived the opin- 
ions of that writer, in some important points, especially 
with regard to sensations ; these, Locke considered to be 
the mooing cause of certain mental oj)erations, wliich, be- 
ing independent of matter, were, therefore, entirely differ- 
ent from sensations. He termed them ideas of reflection. 
Condillac erroneously supposed the language of Locke to 
be, that all our mental operations were sensations and the 
shadows o( sensations. Mr. Locke's '•'-ideas of reflections^ 
wevQ called, in the system of Condillac, sensations. Mr. 
Locke icntied feelings or reflections., the mind looking in 
upon itself; while Condillac probably understood him to 
mean the reflected images of sensations. But, although 
we admit that sensation seems to awaken in the mind the 
germ of thought, we cannot consider our intellectual states 
of mind, or our emotions, merely as sensations under a 
new form. 

Among the later female writers in the French language, 
are, Madame de Genlis, distinguished for the number of 
her works, (amounting to more than one hundred vol- 
mnes;) Madame de Stael, a woman of a powerful and 
masculine intellect ; and Madame de Sevigny, whose let- 
ters are considered as patterns of epistolary writing. I 
would also mention Madame Campan, whose ideas on 
female education were more just and solid, than most of 
her contemporaries.* 

* A worlc by Mriame, La Comfesse De Ram.umt, entitled *Essai sur 
L^ K lucatioii des Feinmes,^ contains excellent views of the actual con- 
dition of women, and suggestions for their improvement. It was re- 
vised and published by har son, after her death. In his preface, is 
exhibited a nianly and enlightened spirit, combined with deep filial af- 
fection, and deference for the opinions and motives of his mother. He 
says, " My mother believed there wjis a necessity for a reform in 
female education ; she thought she perceived what was wanting, to 
render women more happy, more useful, and more respectable, than 
they could be, while their spirits were confined by those prejudices and 
customs, wiiijh are beliind the spirit of the age. She wished to spare 
the young from the onerous heritage of those prejudir",es. Besides, she 
considered that education does not profit the future only, but that pU' 



118 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

We are not now speaking of living writers, in the 
French language, or we should not omit the names of 
Necker de Saussure, Belloc, and Montgolfier ;* with 
those of others, who are now doing honor to their sex, 
and promoting the true interests of education and litera- 
ture. The works of Madame Guizot furnish excellent 
reading for the young, and for all who look for sound and 
practical views of education. 

llal'ian Literature. 

The Italian was formed from the ancient Roman, in- 
termixed with the dialects of the northern barbarians, who 
overran Italy, on the decline of the Roman empire. The 
classical language of ancient Rome was called the Latin, 
from Latium, where the city of Rome was founded. But 
the Latin was riot the common language of the people, 
who had a dialect of their own. Thus, in reading Cic- 
ero, Virgil, and Horace, we do not become acquainted 
with this dialect. After the common language became 
corrupted, by the barbarous dialects of foreign invaders, 
the Latin, even in the middle ages, (commonly called, 
from the decline of learning, the dark ages,) was writ- 
ten by the learned with tolerable purity and correctness. 

renU, themselves, may be greatly benefited by the lessons they give 
their children. Impressed with these ideas, my mother gave herself, 
with all the ardor of her mind, lo the investigation of a subj;icl so im- 
portant and comprehensive. She recalled her own history, she inter- 
rogated her experience, she sought the counsels of others ; her medi- 
tations, her reading, and her conversation, were "all directed lo this 
point. Every day, she gained new light, and made new observations 
upon the subject ; and every day, its utility and importance appeared 
to increase. To borrow an idea and mode of expression which is often 
to he met with in her work, she at length came to consider her labors 
in this cause, as one of the great " duties of her mission.'" In publishing 
her works, I believe myself promoting the cause of truth, and honor- 
ing the memory of my mother, the two objects dearest to my heart." 
It is gratifying to find the uiemory of such a woman, thus honored by 
Buch a son. 

* A valuable periodical, entitled ' La Ruche,' (The Bee Hive,) is 
published at Paris, under the direction of Louise S. W. Eelloc, and 
Adelaidj Montgolfier. It is devoted to the interests of education, and 
Bhould be read by all young persons who arc acquainted with the 
French language. 



SPANISH LITERATURE. HO 

The poets of Italy were slow to change that venerable 
and high-sounding language, which was, to them, a me- 
mento of the former grandeur of their country. By de- 
grees, however, a classical Italian language was formed, 
combining the Latin with the modern Italian, and gaining 
in sweetness and melody, what was lost in stateliness and 
dignity. Thus we may consider the present Italian, as 
found in literature, and among the educated, as the off- 
spring of the Latin, though in a more modern dress, and 
conformed to different rules and idioms. Montgom- 
ery, in his ' Lectures on General Literature,' remarks, 
that there are four names which will be carried down to 
posterity, in connection with Italian poetry ; these are, 
Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto, and Tasso. As a writer on 
politics, Machiavelli has been much celebrated ; and so 
deep were considered his views of diplomacy and politi- 
cal intrigue, that the term ^Machiavellian policy^ has 
passed into common use, for expressing a cautious or art- 
ful management. Beccaria, an Italian WTiter on law, is 
still consulted by the legal practitioner. Sismondi is an 
historian of the eighteenth century, who stands high, as a 
defender of liberty, and a patron of literature. His his- 
tory of the 'Italian Republics of tlie Middle Age,' his 
* Literature of the South of Europe,' and his 'Princi- 
ples of Political Economy,' are all valuable w^orks ; and, 
as they have been mostly translated, are accessible to the 
English student. Among later Italian writers, Silvio 
Pellico should not be forgotten. His autobiography ^^ 
says the intellectual Miss Sedgwick, in a letter to the 
author of this volume, " is a fresh page in the history of 
man ;" and truly, it seems to present us with the very un- 
common sight of a human heart, dissected by its posses- 
sor, and laid open to observation, without the slightest at- 
tempt at disguise, or palliation for any of its defects. 

Spanish Literature. 

The primitive language of Spain was that of the an- 
cient Cantabrians, which yet exists among the people of 
the Pyrenees, under the name of the Basque language. 
* From the Greek, a-vroc^ auios^ self, added to biography. 



120 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

The Phoenician and Carthaginian languages, and afterwards 
the Roman, became intermingled with the ancient lan- 
guage of the country. 

When Spain became subject to the floors, the lan- 
guage of the conquerors was adopted. This had been 
considerably cultivated, especially for poetry. The north- 
western part of Spain, anciently called Castile, while it 
has continued to preserve the Spanish character, in its 
most striking and best features, has also retained a more 
pure and dignified language, than the southern and east- 
ern regions. The Castilian Spanish is that of literature, 
and the court. It is adapted to dignified and pathetic 
subjects, and to poetry. Spanish literature is rich in 
ballads and songs, in which were celebrated the beauty 
of high-born dames, or chivalrous deeds of Moorish or 
Spanish heroes. Many renowned knights, and princes of 
high degree, as well as monks, have had their reputation 
as poets, philosophers, and magicians, (as the early chem- 
ists, or rather alchymists, were termed.) Chronicles, or 
histories of the country, of private individuals, or of the 
reigns of sovereigns, were written by various authors, 
some even of royal blood. But none, of all these writ- 
ers, hold a conspicuous place in literature. In the six- 
teenth century, Cervantes produced his Don Quixote, 
and some other celebrated works. He may be consid- 
ered a star of the first magnitude, or rather, the sun, of 
Spanish literature. 

The great merit of the admired Don Quixote is, that, 
under the guise of knight-errantry, and ridiculous preten- 
sion, the author has given a lively and just, though sar- 
castic, delineation of human life and character. If we 
do not particularize either preceding or succeeding au- 
thors, it is not for want of a large list of names, but be- 
cause none are highly distinguished. 

P^rom the analogies of the Italian and Spanish lan- 
guages with the Latin, a knowledge of this renders easy 
the acquisition of the two former. 

From the consideration of language, we shall now pro- 
ceed to give some general views of geography, history, 
and mythology, departments of study which are connec- 



MODERN GEOGRAPHY. 121 

ted vvitli each other. Here, though language ceases to be 
the immediate subject of inquiry, we are still dependent 
upon it as a medium of communication. 

We shall consider the earth, with respect to its general 
and particular divisions ; its features, both of land and wa- 
ter ; the races and nations of human beings, who have 
dwelt upon its surface ; with its various revolutions, civil, 
political, and moral. As we ascend into antiquity, our 
lights become dim, and uncertain, and carry us into the 
fabulous regions of mydiology. Most of the ancient di- 
vinities are supposed to be distinguished persons, who, 
for their good or evil deeds, were immortalized, by be- 
coming objects of worship ; the favor of some being im- 
plored, while the wrath of others was deprecated. 



CHAPTER XV. 

MODERN GEOGRAPHY. ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY. 

In considering a course of education, I find the sub- 
ject of intellectual improvement expanding so much be- 
fore me, that it will be necessary to pass over, in a cur- 
sory manner, the various branches which demand the at- 
tention of the young. 

On account of the difference in the attainments of young 
persons, whom I am addressing, I am not always certain, 
what mode of instruction will be most improving ; for, in 
endeavoring to accommodate myself to the capacities of 
die more advanced, there is danger that the younger may 
be uninterested and uninstructed ; while, on the other 
hand, to address myself generaify to the younger, and less 
understanding, class of readers, would be to discourage 
those, for whose improvement the work is particularly in- 
tended. 

But it is n-^t useless, for the advanced student occa- 
sionally to look back, to the elements of sciences which 
have become familiar, and to take general views of what 
has been passed in detail. When laboring to reach the 

11 XVIII. 



122 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

summit of a hill, you are as sensible of the actual appear- 
ances, and the relative situations, of the various objects 
which you pass, as when you can look down upon them 
from a commanding height ; but, in the latter case, you 
enjoy the scenery as a whole, and see the separate ob- 
jects, combining to form one beautiful scene. So in 
science, each separate fact at first engages the attention ; 
one difficulty arises, as another is conquered, until the 
mind, pausing in the ascent, looks down on the prospect 
beneath, and becomes invigorated for new toils. 

If younger readers sometimes meet with terms which 
they do not comprehend, it may serve to quicken their 
diligence to attain knowledge. It is well for them, that 
their curiosity should be excited ; well for them to per- 
ceive the many paths of knowledge, which lie before them, 
and in exploring which, although there is labor, there is 
also an ample reward. 

We will now proceed to notice the science of geogra- 
phy. On the importance of this study, it is unnecessary 
to dwell ; since it is usually a favorite pursuit with young 
persons, and, in most schools, receives a large share of 
attention. 

Great improvements, within a few years, have been 
made in the methods of teaching geography, and in the 
books used for that purpose. Twenty years since, the 
best works used were those of D wight, Morse, and Gu- 
thrie. Dwight's geography was in the form of question 
and answer •, it was unaccompanied by an atlas, or maps 
of any kind. Morse's first work, though superior to 
Dwight's, contamf^d no attempt at classifying facts, in a 
philosophical manner -, a pvjpil might study it diligently, 
for months, and yet, for want of a connecting principle, 
the knowledge acquired would neither be useful, nor per- 
manent. Guthrie's geography was a voluminous work, 
containing a great mass of matter, but equally unphilosoph- 
ical in its arrangement, as other contemporaneous works. 

For some time, after geographies were accompanied 
with maps, no other attempt was made to teach the draw- 
ing of them, than in a laborious and unprofitable manner, 



MODERN GEOGRAPHY. 123 

which occupied weeks, and even months, with Httle other 
advantage, than that of giving to the pupil neatness of ex- 
ecution. This method consisted in dehneating maps upon 
paper, and coloring and printing them. These maps had 
a very pretty appearance ; but as they were often drawn, 
by tracing, on paper laid over the original, the mind of the 
pupil was usually too intent on the mechanical perfor- 
mance, to think of the relative situation of places. A young 
lady, after spending three months at a boarding-school, 
and having drawn and painted a map, was, of course, con- 
sidered well versed in geography, though, in truth, she 
might be almost as ignorant of the science, as if the same 
time had been spent in drawing patterns for embroidery. 

The use of maps, in the geography class, was not com- 
mon, twenty years ago. The exercise of the pupil in 
drawing maps, upon the black-board, is an improvement 
of still later date. This is the most effectual method 
of imprinting on the mind the contiguity, and relative sit- 
uations, of countries. Another great improvement, in 
teaching this science, is, that the pupil now commences 
with his own town and country, and proceeds thence, to 
distant places. 

It seems absurd to give, for a child's first lesson in geog- 
raphy, a description of the solar system, or a mathemati- 
cal account of the divisions of the earth, and then to trans- 
port him to Africa, Europe, and Asia, before he is taught 
any thing of his own country. The teacher should pre- 
sent the child with a map of his own town, direct his 
attention to the river before his own door, to the mountains 
which are in sight, and the towns which bound his own na- 
tive place.* 

The word geography is taken from the Greek, yn, ge, 
the earth, and ypa^p^, grapho, to delineate ; but its primi- 

* By teaching pupils in this simple manner, an instructer would 
have no cause to fear those blunders, which are sometimes made by 
pupils, when taught definitions, before they are made to understand 
facts. A teacher, who had faithfully labored to prepare a class for ex- 
amination, asked a young Miss, who stood at the head, " Wliat is Ge- 
ography ?" The pupil, much to the entertainment of the audience and 
chagrin of her instructer, promptly and audibly answered, " Geography 
is a large ball, or globe." 



124 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

live signification, of a delineation of the earth, has been 
gradually extended, so that, now, geography includes a 
description of climates, soil, and productions, and even of 
the moral and intellectual character of mankind. 

The science of geography is intimately connected witli 
astronomy. Even our knowledge of the figure of the 
earth is derived from observing its shadow upon the moon, 
when in eclipse. Such an eclipse is caused by the shad- 
ow of the earth falling upon the moon. This shadow, 
being always bounded by a circular line, proves, that the 
body which caused it is round. In the early ages of man- 
kind, the earth was supposed to be a flat surface, termi- 
nated by an immeasurable gulf. Each barbarous nation 
supposed itself in the centre of this great plain. Some 
supposed, that the earth rested upon the back of an enor- 
mous elephant, and that the elephant rested upon a huge 
tortoise ; but here arose a greater difficulty than the first, 
since the whole was then to be supported by some new 
monster. You perceive how ridiculous are such hypoth- 
eses ; but they are not more so, than a thousand others, 
which were received by mankind in their primitive state. 

By astronomy, we learn the existence of what is called 
the 8olar System^ having for its centre, the sun, around 
which revolve several worlds, or planets ; the earth we 
inhabit being the third in order from the sun, and travel- 
ling in a path, called its orbit, around this great luminary, 
once, in a period of time which we call a year. This 
journey causes Summer and Winter ; for, when the earth 
is in that part of its orbit wdiere the sun shines directly 
upon it, we have Summer, and when in that part where 
the sun's rays fall obliquely, we have Winter. Our days 
are longer in Summer, and shorter in Winter, from our 
change of situation with respect to the sun. 

Although it is the real motion of the earth, around the 
sun, which causes the changes in their relative situations, 
yet to us, the sun is apparently approaching to, and re- 
ceding from, the earth. In March and September, the 
sun appears to be at the equator,* and the days and nights 

* These periods are called the equinoxes, from the Latin (cquus^ 
equal, and 7iox, niglit ; the night then being equal to the day. 



MODERN GEOGRAPHY. 125 

are equal in all parts of the world. After the twentieth 
of Mai ch, the sun appears to advance towards us, and in 
June, it appears at the tropic of Cancer, which is its 
northern boundary ; after this, it turns back, and pursues 
its course towards the southern tropic, which it reaches 
in six months. 

We learn, by astronomy, that the planets, and our earth 
among the number, turn, as if upon an axis, once, in a 
given period of time. The earth turns completely round, 
in a period of time, which we call a day. This day we 
divide into twenty-four parts, each of which we call an 
hour. But the term day is used in another sense, name- 
ly, to denote the presence of the sun, while its absence 
is called night. Thus, when the earth, in its diurnal mo- 
tion, carries the side we are upon away from the sun, we 
have night ; when we are carried towards the sun, we 
have day. 

The division of the earth into zones is made with ref- 
erence to the sun ; those parts of the earth, where the 
sun is sometimes directly overhead, are called the torrid, 
or burning, zone. In the temperate zones the sun is 
never vertical, but the length of the days is not over 
twenty-four hours. The other two zones are the frigid ; 
on these, the sun shines very obliquely. They have 
days, varying, in length, from twenty-four hours to six 
months. That department of geography, which treats 
of the various circles, supposed to be described on the 
earth's surface, as parallels of latitude, meridians, &c., 
is called mathematical geography. 

But we have not yet considered what supports the 
earth. Wonderful as it may seem, the earth stands upon 
nothing ; like the moon and sun, it is suspended in the 
heavens, without support. You know that even a little 
ball will not remain in the air, without being supported by- 
something. Why does the ball fall to the ground .'' Why 
do all lieary bodies fall ? We answer, that they are at- 
tracted to the earth, by a force, called gravitation. Now 
the earth is kept from falling by the very power, which 
causes a stone to fall. 

The sun, by the force of gravitation, attracts the earth 
11* 



126 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

towards it ; but the earth, when commencmg its course, 
received, from its Creator, an impulse, tending to carry 
it in a direction contrary to the sun. The force of grav- 
itation tends, as we have seen, to carry it directly towards 
the sun ; but the earth, obeying neither force, though in- 
fluenced by both, takes a middle course, and is thus kept 
moving round the sun. The connection of the earth with 
the sun, and other heavenly bodies, is called astronomi- 
cal geography. 

Physical, or natural, geography is a very compre- 
hensive science ; it includes a knowledge of the materials 
of which the earth is composed. This knowledge em- 
braces the science o( geology, which names and arranges 
the rocks, and other materials, which compose the earth ; 
and of chemistry, which teaches the constituent elements 
of these substances. Thus you see, that sciences, which 
may appear distinct, have an intimate connection with each 
other. Physical geography also comprehends a knowl- 
edge of those substances, which grow out of the earth, 
and this knowledge is called botany. 

Let us suppose ourselves to be seated in a balloon, 
sufficiently elevated above the surface of the earth, to be 
able to distinguish its general figure and surface. Let us 
look first at its figure. We behold, suspended, as it 
would seem, in empty space, though in reality surrounded 
by the material substance, air, a large ball, not exactly 
round, but a litde flattened at each end, or pole. This 
ball presents an uneven surface : while it is turning round, 
from west to east, let us examine the various objects which 
appear. For this, we must approach nearer. Here we 
see a long strip of land, extending almost from one pole 
to the other ; nearly in the centre, it seems penetrated by 
an arm of the ocean ; this must be the great American 
continent, separated, by the Gulf of Mexico, into a north- 
ern and southern part. 

We will suppose that our balloon is somewhat lowered, 
and directed over the northern part of this great conti- 
nent ; and what do we now see ? On the two sides are 
vast oceans, washing its eastern and western coasts, and 
on the north, an ocean of ice separates it from the pole. 



MODERN GEOGRAPHY. 127 

Do you observe that chain of lakes ? These are called 
the Great Lakes. Let us approach nearer. With what 
tremendous force that mighty river rushes over the awful 
precipice, into the dark abyss below ; how dreadful is 
this sound of " deep calling unto deep," and what a sub- 
lime exhibition, do we here behold, of physical power and 
force ! No wonder that yonder haughty savage, nursed 
amidst such scenes, is proud and daring, and still loves 
his wild solitudes widi unshaken attachment ! But, as 
sure as his loved Niagara loses itself in the ocean, so sure 
must his race be swallowed up in the rushing tide of civ- 
ilization, which, wherever he hides himself, comes, with 
resistless force, foaming down upon him. 

You see here an extensive country, through which the 
rivers descend from the north, from the east, and the 
west : this is called a basin, and many delightful valleys 
and plains does it contain. It has for its western side, 
the Rocky mountains, and on the east, and southeast, 
the Alleghany, or Apalachian, chain. The former is 
an immense chain, or range, of very high mountains, 
which divides the waters that flow west, to the Pacific 
ocean, from those which flow east and south, to the At- 
lantic. 

We will now go eastward, and pass the great chain of 
the Apalachian mountains, which is sometimes called the 
backbone of the United States. We are now on its 
eastern side. Look, and you will see many rivers flow- 
ing towards the eastern ocean. Do you observe the 
northeastern part of the section of country we are now 
viewing ? You nmy there see mountains with snow-cov- 
ered tops ; and, further west, another chain, whose sum- 
mits and sides are always verdant. Between these moun- 
tains, pursuing a southern course, a river is seen, whose 
progress, at first, seems hurried ; but, by degrees, its 
youthful impetuousity subsides, and, with calm and placid 
motion, it bears itself on, to an arm of the ocean, running 
in from the east, and forming the southern boundary to a 
lovely country. The valley of this river is adorned with 
the ornaments of art, and the richest gifts of Nature. This 
valley, and an extensive territory on the east and west of 



128 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

it, are called New England, or the country of the pilgrims. 
History will tell you why these names are given. 

But our aerial journey is becoming too long ; we must 
retrace our way from the happy valley of the Connecticut. 
Let us go westward, and descend near to the earth. 
Here we see the majestic Hudson, carrying, on iis bo- 
som, innumerable objects, passing and repassing in rapid 
motion, as if actuated by a spirit of intelligence. Allhough 
not gifted with intelligence, themselves, they are directed 
in their course by intelligent minds, and filled with rational 
beings, intent on business or pleasure. These are steam- 
boats, which exhibit one of the proudest victories, that 
mind has ever achieved over matter ; two destructive el- 
ements, fire and water, being made subservient to man's 
convenience, and obedient to his will. 

Looking down from the tide-waters of the Hudson, we 
may see, darting almost with the rapidity of the wind, the 
steam-car, with its huge train. The land is thus made to 
compete with the water, in swiftness of communication. 
And here, we will end our aerial voyage. 

In order to understand physical geography, you must, 
in imagination, combine, at one view, the great features 
of Nature, — oceans, lakes and rivers, continents and isl- 
ands, table-lands, basins, plains, valleys, and deserts ; 
these are the subjects of this science, as are the geologi- 
cal formations of countries. When we know the geolog- 
ical features of a country, we can form a probable esti- 
mate of the character of its soil, the quantity of its water, 
and the number and appearance of its caves. AVe can 
tell, whether it Is likely to contain coal or salt mines, iron 
or precious metals ; we can even tell the plants, which 
would probably be found in it. What is still more won- 
derful, we can form some judgement of the moral charac- 
ter of a people, from the nature of the soil. Switzerland 
is famous for its rugged soil, its pure air and water, and 
its patriotic and independent inhabitants. It is a primi- 
tive country, and such a formation requires hard labor for 
its cultivation. The efl^ect of labor is to form the char- 
acter of a people to habits of order and industry, and to 
render them independent of others. Independence pro- 



MODERN GEOGRAPHY. 129 

duces a nobleness and elevation of feeling, and courage 
to resist oppression. 

A country having a secondary, or alluvial, formation, 
is generally fertile ; Nature here, almost spontaneously, 
brings forth sustenance for its inhabitants. Man, when 
not compelled to labor, and ignorant of intellectual enjoy- 
ments, degenerates ; he seeks only to gratify his senses, 
and easily becomes a slave to those who will protect and 
defend him. Slavery, in its turn, still further debases 
the wretched human being. The situation of the peas- 
ants of Turkey, of Spain, and Italy, may illustrate the 
influence of a fertile soil upon the moral character of a 
people. 

But I have, in remarking on national character, antic- 
ipated what belongs to civil^ or political., geography.^ 
whose province it is, to describe the moral condition of 
mankind, including their religion, forms of government, 
moral and intellectual improvement. This view of the 
world is sometimes called historical geography. Sta- 
tistical geography gives an account of the length and 
breadth, population, boundaries, and commerce of coun- 
tries. 

You will now see that geography is not a science of 
memory., alone, consisting of mechanical recitations of the 
names of places, and the situations of countries, rivers, 
and mountains. It is necessary to learn to view things, 
first, in detail, and then, in general, to compare and re- 
flect, in order to become acquainted with geography. And 
thus you perceive, that, although this science is highly 
useful, for the information which it communicates, it also, 
when properly studied, serves to develope and improve 
the faculties of reason and judgement, and to elevate the 
moral character. 

The study of geography tends to give enlarged and 
comprehensive views, respecting the earth we inhabit. 
While this science was unknown, and mankind in ignorance 
of the world on which they lived, the most dark and su- 
perstitious fears prevailed, with respect to the living beings 
who were supposed to exist in certain unknown regions. 
Kven the Romans, enlightened as they were, for the pe- 



130 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

riod in which they flourished, supposed the hordes of 
barbarians, which poured in upon them, were absolutely 
without limits, as to numbers, or the extent of their coun- 
try. Panic -struck by these terrors, the Romans thus be- 
came an easy prey to a people, whom they thought it 
would be in vain to resist. 

The descendants of the Romans, afterwards, condemn- 
ed the philosopher Galileo to perpetual imprisonment, for 
daring to assert that the earth was round, and moved on 
an imaginary axis. Spigelius, a bishop of Upsal, in Swe- 
den, was burnt at the stake, for expressing his belief in 
the globular form of the earth, and that there might be 
people who had night when it was day in vSweden, and 
day when it was night there, or that were their antipodes.* 
This doctrine, by the superstitious and ignorant monks, 
was declared to be a proposition, absurd in its very nature, 
false in philosophy, heretical in religion, and contrary to 
the Holy Scriptures. 

The discovery of the true figure of the earth has been 
of incalculable advantage to mankind. Indeed, we can- 
not, without pity, think of the period when the European 
knew nothing of the earth, but of his own little continent. 
All else was dark and mysterious, as the regions beyond 
the grave. 

You have read of the difficulties encountered by Co- 
lumbus,! i" obtaining the assistance, necessary to prose- 
cute a voyage, in which he believed that some great dis» 
covery awaited him. We cannot, however, appreciate 
the feelings which agitated him, as hope and fear for the 
desired aid prevailed. By study and observation, he had 
become convinced of the spherical figure of the earth ; 
and thought of finding a better way of sailing to the East 
Indies, than by the long and dangerous passage around the 
Cape of Good Hope. 

While his mind was laboring with this grand idea, and 

* Antipodes is from two Greek words, — avri, anti, opposite, and 
TTo^oc, podos, a foot ; meaning people who live on opposite sides of the 
globe, and whose feet are therefore directly opposite. 

t See * Lifj: of Columbus,' in vol. I. of the larger series of ' Thb 
ScHooi. Library.' 



ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY. 131 

impressed with the immense importance of ascertaining 
the correctness of his reasoning, he was, as is often the 
case with those who attempt great things, treated by many 
as a madman, or a fooL We may, my young readers, 
justly feel a pride in the thought, that, upon a woman de- 
pended the realization of tlie sublime conceptions of Co- 
lumbus ; and providential, indeed, does it appear, that 
this w'oman was a sovereign, able, as well as willing, to 
aid the genius which her mind appreciated. Isabella ! 
let the daughters of Columbia ever hold thy name in rev- 
erence ! let them remember, that, without thy aid, their 
own dear country might even now have been a wilderness, 
shared by the savage heathen, and the more savage beast 
of the forest ! 

Ancient Geography. 

Geography is properly divided into ancient and mod- 
ern. Ancient geography commences with describing 
countries, known in the remotest antiquity, respecting 
which we have any information. Although writers agree, 
in dividing both geography and history into ancient and 
modern, they differ, as to the point of time most proper 
for their separation. While some fix this, at the extinc- 
tion of the Western Empire of the Romans, A. D. 476, 
others prefer to divide, at the commencement of the JYew 
Western Empire^ under Charlemagne, A. D. 800. A 
third period, and one wiiich evidently seems the most 
proper, is the birth of our Saviour. 

This is considered as having taken place, four thousand 
and four years after the creation. The w-hole Christian 
world now reckon time, from the birth of Christ ; thus we 
date A. D. (Anno Domini, m the year of our Lord,) 
1840 ; that is, so many years have passed since his birth. 
So in public acts, officers of the government date from 
the independence of our country, it being at this time the 
sixty-fourth year of American Independence. 

Should there be, eighteen hundred years hence, per- 
sons, who dispute the fact of such an event as the Amer- 
ican Revolution, and if, at the same time, public acts 
should continue to be dated from this event, would not 
this very circumstance substantiate the fact ? 



132 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

When did any people, or any individual, begin to date 
from an event which never took place ? Were there no 
other proof of the appearance in the world of Jesus Christ, 
it would seem, as if the fact, of so great a portion of man- 
kind reckoning from such an event, might convince the 
most skeptical. Or, if he was nothing more than an ob- 
scure carpenter, who imposed on the creduhty of a few ig- 
norant fishermen, and was finally put to death for his blas- 
phemies, how has it happened that his birth, after a period 
of more than eighteen hundred years. Is considered a more 
important event than the creation itself ? Even the De- 
ist, who ridicules the Christian, for what he calls his cre- 
dulity, dates from the birth of Christ. Which, we would 
ask, is the more credulous ; the skeptic, who believes that 
events can happen without a cause, or he, who relies on 
evidence the most clear and indisputable ? 

The study of ancient geography should not be com- 
menced, before some acquaintance with modern. After 
learning, in the latter, the situations and boundaries of 
places, it is not difficult to connect with them the names 
by which they were anciently known : thus, Caledonia 
easily becomes associated with the more modern name, 
Scotland ; Hibernia, with Ireland ; Hispania, with Spain ; 
Gaul, with France ; &c. Ancient geography teaches how 
much the boundaries and extent of countries have changed, 
and what part of the world was known or unknown to the 
ancients. 

A knowledge of ancient geography is very important, 
to a right understanding of the sacred writings and ancient 
history. The nations, mentioned in the Old Testament, 
have long since ceased to exist. Of the Assyrian, Baby- 
lonian, Egyptian, and Syrian, empires, nothing but the 
names now remains. Their proud capitals, Nineveh, 
Babylon, Thebes, Tyre, and Sidon, have disappeared 
from the earth, and scarcely do we know the places, 
which they once so proudly occupied. 

The cities of the Canaanites, the Midianites, and the 
Philistines, with those of their conquerors, the Jews, are 
all swept from existence. The boundaries of these na- 
tions, ancient geography cannot well define ; all that it 



ANCIENT GEOGRAPHF. 133 

can do is, to point out their supposed location. Of the 
people, who inhabited these ancient countries, not a rem- 
nant remains, except of the Hebrews, or Jews ; and they, 
wandering and dispersed over the face of the earth, though 
still })rescrving their ancient customs and religion, prove 
the truth of the Sacred Volume, which, while it prophe- 
sied their fate as a nation, foretold that they would con- 
tinue a separate people. A part of the prophecy respec- 
ting them, viz. that they shall be collected and restored to 
their ancient city, Jerusalem, still remains to be fulfilled. 
The Christian world are looking for this event, as the 
commencement of the Millennium or that period "when 
the whole earth shall be covered with the knowledge of 
the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." 

A knowledge of ancient geography is of great assis- 
tance, in understanding the historical parts of the New 
Testament. The events, there recorded, become more 
deeply impressed upon the mind, when the location of 
the places, where they occurred, is understood. This 
science points out Bethlehem, where our Saviour was 
born ; Nazareth, where he dwelt w^ith his parents ; the river 
Jordan, where he was baptized ; the desert of Judea, 
where he fasted forty days ; Cana, W'here he wrought his 
first miracle ; the various countries, over which he trav- 
elled ; the lakes and seas, which he crossed ; and, iinally, 
Jerusalem, where he was crucified. 

A knowledge of the situation of these places greatly 
increases our interest in the narrative, with which they 
are connected. Suppose, upon an ancient map, you fol- 
low our Saviour, in the various events of his hfe : you 
find the Mount of Olives, overlooking Jerusalem, where, 
beholding that city, he v/ept over it ; here, the garden of 
Gethsemane, where, being in agony under the burden of 
our sins, he prayed ; and there. Calvary, where, the great 
work of our redemption being completed, *'the Saviour 
bowed his head and said, It is finished." Does not the 
tracing of these locations help you to believe, and realize 
the great truths of Christianity ? 

Without being accustomed to the assistance of sensible 
delineations, people are in danger of reading the historical 
12 xviii. 



134 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

parts of the Scriptures, as they would some tale of fancy, 
which, floating through the imagination, leaves upon the 
mind no lasting impression. Not that one cannot be a 
Christian, without a knowledge of ancient geography, or 
indeed of any other human science ; for, blessed be the 
name of Him who has given us " the word of hfe," it is 
so simple, that even " the wayfaring man need not err 
therein." The truths of Christianity appeal to the heart, 
as well as to the understanding, and are accessible to the 
most unenlightened. Religion, without science, is infi- 
nitely preferable to all human knowledge, without rehgion. 
But, when religion and science meet in the same mind, 
both assume a higher character. Science may well be 
considered as the handmaid of piety ; for such it will ever 
be, unless perverted and abused. 

The physical department of ancient geography varies 
but little from the modern, in comparison with the changes 
which have taken place in civil geography. Yet even 
this does vary, for the very face of Nature is changing. 
It is the business of geology, a science which throws 
much light upon ancient physical geography, to trace the 
progress of creation, until the earth became a solid mass, 
fitted for the production of vegetable life, and a habitation 
for man and beast. We learn, that, after this period, 
various agents have been, and still are, constantly pro- 
ducing changes in the features of our globe. Some op- 
erate slowly, as the «ir, which gradually dissolves solid 
substances, separating rocks into stones, and crumbling 
these into pebbles and sand. This sand is washed by the 
water of rivers towards their mouths, forming new land, 
or deltas, or accumulating in the middle of rivers, and form- 
ing islands. Thus, the higher parts of countries are grad- 
ually crumbling away, v.hile the lower parts accumulate. 
Rivers are often blocked up by such accumulations, and 
their channels turned. 

The region around me* is probably much changed, 
since the creation, and even since the deluge, — an event 
which produced a change in the physical aspect of the 

* This was written at Troy, New York, in the vicinity of which, 
exist many stiiliing marks of physical changes. 



ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY. 135 

globe, greater, perhaps, than any other, which has ever 
occurred. It is impossible to pronounce, with certainty, 
respecting the changes, wliich may have taken place, in 
the region watered by the Hudson and its branches ; but, 
while passing down its current, and observing the adjacent 
country on each side, I have been strongly impressed with 
(he belief, that the valley of this river was once a vast 
lake, connected with the lakes on our northern border ; 
that the highlands and palisadoes* were the southern boun- 
dary of this lake. The waters, forcibly operating upon 
these barriers, might, by degrees, have worn them away, 
until, opening for itself a passage, this mighty mass rushed 
onward to the ocean. As this region has once been cov- 
ered with water, it seems probable, that mount Ida and 
mount Olympus were once islands in this great lake. 

About two miles from Troy, on the east, there is a 
beautiful valley. By following its course, we find it 
winding its way towards the Hudson, resembling, in ap- 
pearance, the bed of a river whose channel has been 
turned, or whose waters are dried up. 

On the west side of the Hudson, there is a singular 
ravine, often called the Dry river ; this, instead of slop- 
ing banks, like the beautiful vale on the eastern side, has 
abrupt and rugged shores, and a rocky, uneven bed : a 
little rill yet lingers among the rocks, convincing us, if 
further evidence were needed, that here has been a noble 
arm of the Hudson. Although, on the eastern side, the 
vale of which I have spoken bears less incontestable 
marks of its having been the bed of a river, I have little 
doubt, but that, too, was covered with water, tributary 
to the large river. Referring, then, to the supposition, 
that the Hudson river is but the remains of a great lake, 
which suddenly discharged its waters into the Atlantic, 
we may suppose, that, when this event took place, many 
rivers were formed by the inequalities of the surface ; 
and that these rivers, in time, have changed their chan- 
nels, or gradually subsided into dry land. 

* The palisadoes is a local name, given to certain rocks, on the banks 
of the Hudson river, which are in the form of columns or pillars, and 
have something of the appearance of the palisades of a fortress. 



136 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

These hints are offered, with a view to induce the 
young to pay attention to the natural features of the dif- 
ferent places where they reside, or through which they 
may travel ; to remark the indications of changes in phys- 
ical geography, which present themselves, in a more or 
less striking manner, in every region of our country. 
Even the most famihar scenes, you may never have view- 
ed, in reference to any investigation respecting the causes 
of the appearances which present themselves. By be- 
stowing a little attention to these subjects, Nature will ap- 
pear under a new aspect, and you will almost begin to 
fancy, that you have hitherto walked bhndfolded through 
her curious and wonderful scenes. 

Although, in many cases, we infer physical changes 
merely from certain present indications, yet we learn, 
from history, of cities being sunk by earthquakes, or over- 
whelmed by the lava of volcanoes, of islands suddenly 
disappearing, and of other islands being thrown up from 
the bottom of the sea. 

But have you yet studied the ancient geography of 
your own country ? We have said that geography should 
begin at home. Why then have you not been taught the 
ancient geography of the United States ? It is because 
w^e have no ancient geography. We are not only a new 
nation, but the country we inhabit is new, in history. 
Until its discovery in 1492, it w^as inhabited by a race of 
men, who, ignorant of the arts of printing or writing, left 
no records of the past.* Our ancestors, a httle more 
than two hundred years since, came to this newly-discov- 
ered country ; they found here a savage people, who 
knew nothing of the arts and refinements of civilized life ; 
who had no history, no ancient or modern geography, of 
their country. They told our ancestors, what their fa- 
thers had said to them, of their coming from the far west 
towards the east. But tradition points out no ancient 
cities, like those which, from time to time, have flourish- 
ed in the old world. 

* It has recently been proved, to the satisfaction of most individuals, 
who are qualified to express an opinion on the subject, that America 
was repeatedly vi.>ited, during a succession of years, long anterior to 



ANCIENT GEOGRAPHT. 137 

The most ancient towns in New England, are Ply- 
mouth, Salem, and Boston, in Massachusetts, Hartford 
and New Haven, in Connecticut ; in the Middle States, 
New York and Albany, in the State of New York, and 
Ellzabelhtown, in New Jersey ; while in the Southern 
States, are Jamestown and Savannah. But antiquity 
has not yet shrouded any of our cities, or our heroes, in 
the obscurity favorable to the sublime. Our Washington 
is remembered by many who now live, and who knew him 
to be but a man, though a great and good one. Had he 
lived in ancient days, his memory would have received di- 
vine honors ; he would have been enrolled among the 
demi-gods, with Perseus, Hercules, iEsculapius, and 
other heroes and benefactors of mankind. 

The study of ancient geography, in bringing you ac- 
quainted with places no longer in existence, cannot fail 
to suggest the transient nature of all human glory and per- 
fection. The works of man are all perishable ; and yet 
these are more enduring than their authors. 

To toil a few short years, and then pass away, is the 
destiny of man, as regards this world. Could we, how- 
ever, penetrate the unseen world of spirits, as we can, in 
some degree, the dim twilight of antiquity, we should be- 
hold the effects of the short period of earthly existence 
upon our fellow-mortals who have gone before us ; for the 
Scriptures affirm, that " their works follow them." 

This consideration, then, should give new vigor to our 
efforts. It is true, that marble palaces and temples, and 

the time of Columbus. The evidence of this is contained in a valu- 
able and costly volume, entitled ' Antiquitates Ameiicante,' which was 
published in the year 1837, by the Royal Society of Northern Anti- 
quaries at Copenhagen, in Beiimark. The work, among other docu- 
ments, contains copies of the original Icelandic records, with Danish, 
and Latin translations, describing the voyages, made by the Northmen 
to this country, and the settlements formed here, from the year 986, 
to the year 1345, after which time, we learn uollung more of Ameri- 
ca, until its rediscovery, by Columbus, in 1492. I would refer those 
of my readers who may desire further information on this subject, (but 
cannot gain access to the Work spoken of,) to No. 4, of the New York 
Review, No. 93 of the North American Review, and Nos. 5 and 6, of 
the United States Magazine and Democratic Review, which contain 
articles upon it, drawn up by distinguished scholars. 

12* 



13S THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

all the works of art, crumble into ruins, yet the moral deeds 
of mankind, though it may seem that they, too, are carried 
down the mighty stream of time, are arrested in their pro- 
gress, and recorded in that register of human actions which 
is to remain sealed, till the " great day of account." Who 
among us will not have a fearful list of omissions of duty, 
of commissions of offences, to answer for ? Not a single 
human being is without sin, not one is guiltless. And yet 
we read, in the word of God, that without holiness "no 
man shall see the Lord." What then shall we do .'' Are 
we to be forever lost, shut out from His presence, who 
alone can make us glorious and happy ? Where shall we 
obtain the hohness that we need ? Where shall we wash 
away the guilt with which our souls are stained ? 

Listen to the words of the Book of Life. " The blood 
of Jesus Christ" '' cleanseth us from all sin." " He was 
wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our in- 
iquities ;" " with his stripes we are healed." His blood 
is shed for the remission of sins. " If we confess our sins, 
He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse 
us from all unrighteousness." 



CHAPTER XVI. 

HISTORY. 

Having acquired some knowledge of geography, the 
mind naturally seeks for information respecting the living 
and moral agents, who have inhabited the earth since the 
period of its creation. There are two methods of study- 
ing history ; first, by commencing with the earliest periods 
of society, and descending to the present time ; and sec- 
ond, by an inverse, or ascending, order. 

Which of these methods is that of Nature ? Does the 
child feel most interested in hearing accounts of what be- 
fell his grandparents, or in learning the fortunes of Alex- 
ander or Ca3sar ? We know that he will take a deeper 



HISTORY. 139 

interest In the history of his own ancestors, and of events 
which have had an important influence upon his own cir- 
cumstances in life. Proceeding, then, upon this view of 
the operations of the mind, we w^ould recommend, that 
the beginner should commence with the history of his own 
age and country. It would be desirable, that every child 
should first be presented with the history of his own town, 
then of his own State, and after that, of the whole United 
Republic. The descending method is agreeable to the 
order of time ; indeed, when a pupil commences with his 
own age and country, he should subsequently pursue this 
course, in which can be taken a more philosophical view 
of the connection between causes and their corresponding 
effects. 

The term history is derived from the Latin w^ord histo- 
ria, and literally signifies a relation of facts ; thus we term 
that science, which considers facts with respect to the ob- 
jects of the different kingdoms of Nature, animal, vegeta- 
ble, and mineral, natural history. 

We are now to confine our attention to civil history^ 
or that branch, which presents us with a record of the 
characters and actions of mankind. Cicero defines civil 
history, to be, '•' the testimony of time ^ the light of truths 
the messenger of antiquity^ and the school of life.'' ^ His- 
tory is a word of extensive application ; but when used to 
signify a particular branch of education, it has relation to 
the origin, progress, and dechne, of nations ; to the distin- 
guished individuals who have exerted an influence upon 
the public welfare ; and to the progress of literature, sci- 
ence, and arts. Plistory is, indeed, something more than 
a knowledge of facts ; it leads to a consideration of those 
principles In human nature, which give their origin to the 
various forms of society, from w^iich spring the Institu- 
tions, laws, and usages, of man, in his rudest, as well as 
most polished, state. History teaches the principles on 
which nations are founded, and points out the means of 
improvement, as well as the causes of their depravity and 
decline. 

Bat it is the mind, matured and practised to judge of 
causes by eflects, that must consider history under its true 



140 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

philosophical aspect ; by the young pupil, it must be 
chiefly viewed in relation to events. 

Civil history is either sacred, or profane. 

Sacred history is that which is contained in the Bible. 
To this holy volume, we are indebted, for our knowledge 
of the origin of our planet. " In the beginning, God 
created the heavens and the earth." When was this be- 
ginning ? This is a fearful and overwhelming question, 
carrying the mind back to that period, when the Deity 
existed, alone, in the majesty of his own glory, and the 
vast conception of His Infinite Mind had not yet become 
manifest in material creations. But matter must have had 
a beginning ; — it could not have created itself ; — God 
must have existed forever, for He is the first cause of all 
things, and there is none greater than Himself. Nothing 
can be brought into existence, without a cause ; what, 
then, could have created God ? We see, that, should 
we attempt to go further, and find some power which 
could have created the Deity, we must go another step, 
and ask how that power came to exist, and thus we might 
go on, ad infinitum ;* not in any manner removing the 
difficulty, but multiplying mysteries at every proposition. 
This is what the pagans did, in their mythology. For, 
although they called Jupiter the father of gods and men, 
they accounted for his existence, by saying that he was 
the son of Saturn ; Saturn was the son of Heaven and 
Earth, and they were the children of Chaos. How Chaos, 
or matter in an unformed state, came into existence, the 
pagans, in their wisdom, did not attempt to explain. 

But let us turn, from the childish absurdities of hea- 
thenism, to the light of revelation. " In the beginning 
God created the heavens and the earth." God, then, has 
existed from eternity. " He is from everlasting to ever- 
lasting, without beginning of days, or end of time." Here, 
I would ask you, for a moment, to consider the language 
of the sacred history. Was this beginning, the period 
when our earth began to take its present form ? This is 
the belief of many, especially with those who are httle 

* To infinity — without end. 



HISTORY. 141 

acquainted with geological facts, and who have not paid 
strict attention to the import of the language. 

The opinion of others is, that the " beginning ^''^ was 
that eventful period, when the elements of all the matter, 
which now exists in the universe, v/ere brought into ex- 
istence. Respecting what took place after this august 
beginning of material existence, except as relates to our 
earth, the sacred writings do not inform us. The history 
of other worlds is not known to us ; nor for how many 
centuries of ages they might have been going on to per- 
fection, before the Almighty thought proper to shape, 
into its present form, the matter which composes our 
globe. It seems probable, that, between the fact re- 
corded in the first verse of Genesis, and that in the suc- 
ceeding verse, a vast interval of time had elapsed. But 
the sacred historian leaves that period, as not relating to 
man, and hastens to speak of the earth. This, he says, 
^' was without form^^^ and it was " void," (or a chaotic 
mass,)" and darkness was upon the face of the deep: 
and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the ica- 
ters,'''' It appears, that this formless mass w^as in a fluid 
state ; and geology furnishes abundant evidence to prove, 
that, from such a state, our globe must gradually have be- 
come consolidated. 

The Spirit, or power of God, now operating upon 
this chaotic mass, from darkness produced hght, and a 
series of changes, at length, brought the earth into a habi- 
table state. Man was then formed, not of matter newly 
created for that purpose ; but his body was made of the 
dust of the earth, and animated by the breath of the Al- 
mighty. 

In the history, we are now examining, we thus learn 
the production of our earth, and the origin of the human 
race. We find Adam and liis companion, placed in the 
delightful garden of Eden, favored with the company 
of angels, and personal communion with God, Himself. 
But, yielding to temptation, our first parents disobeyed 
the conmiands of their Maker, and thus "brought death 
into the world, and all our wo." Here, we see the ori- 
gin of evil ; a subject, about which metaphysicians have 



142 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

been much perplexed. For the same ambition, which 
led our first parents to sin, still urges their descendants 
to study into things, transcending their own limited facul- 
ties, and to pass by those simple records, which the Al- 
mighty Himself has caused to be written for their in- 
struction. 

Let us now take a rapid review of the records of our 
race, after sin had entered the world. A brother, urged 
by envy, raises his hand against an innocent brother, and, 
for the first time, death appears among men. Cain is 
driven forth, a vagabond, upon the face of the earth. It 
appears that he built a city, called Enoch, after the name 
of his son ; this city w^as probably nothing more than a 
collection of his descendants into one place, where they 
inhabited rude and temporary dwellings. 

Although some "walked with God," yet there were 
many who followed their own evil devices, until wicked- 
ness had so much increased upon the earth, that the Al- 
mighty resolved upon the destruction of the whole human 
race by a deluge. Noah and his family, alone, were 
spared, by taking refuge, according to Divine counsel, in 
an ark, constructed in a peculiar manner. The Deluge 
is supposed to have taken place about one thousand and 
six hundred years after the creation. The earth was re- 
peopled by the three sons of Noah. Before the flood, 
mankind lived to the age of several hundred years ; after 
this time, the period of human life gradually shortened, 
to seventy or eighty years. 

The scene of the great events, which we have now so 
hastily sketched, was in Asia. The place, where was 
situated the garden of Eden, is not known ; for, after the 
Fall, its beauty and loveliness disappeared ; thorns and 
thistles sprung up ; and man was obliged to gain his sub- 
sistence by " the sweat of his face." 

No records, except in the sacred writings, give us any 
knowledge of the history of man previous to the period 
of the Deluge. These writings were carefully preserved 
by the .Tews. They were the descendants of Abraham, 
a man especially consecrated by God, as the Aither of a 
chosen race. Moses, the author of the first five books 



HISTORY. 143 

of the Bible, or Pentateuch, as they are sometimes call- 
ed, is the most ancient historian, of whom we have any 
knowledge. Sacred history, after the Deluge, is mostly 
confined to the Jewish nation. 

Profane history is so called, in contradistinction to 
sacred. Of profane historians, the most ancient is Ho- 
mer ; but his relations are so mingled with fiction, that 
his feeble light serves but to manifest the thick darkness 
of the period, in which he lived. His poems chiefly re- 
late to Greece, and the coasts of Asia Minor, the Trojan 
war, and the exploits of Grecian and Trojan heroes. 

The first writer of profane history, who can be relied 
upon, is Herodotus, who wrote after the invasion of 
Greece by Xerxes. Thucydides and Xenophon ap- 
peared soon after, and these three writers may be consid- 
ered as the fathers of Grecian history. At this period, 
eloquence was the idol of the Grecian people ; and, as 
their historians read their own works, in popular assem- 
blies, they sought rather to adorn them with the beauties 
of style, than to give a narrative of facts : their writings 
were but a kind of historical romance, in which their own 
countrymen figured as heroes, and their own country was 
extolled with all the enthusiasm of the most glowing im- 
agination. 

The Roman historians, Polybius, Tacitus, and Sallust, 
were more philosophical and dispassionate. Livy was 
richer in the ornament of language, but less correct. Cae- 
sar wrote chiefly of his own wars, and described military 
operations, in a more vivid and distinct manner, than any 
succeeding writer has done. Had Napoleon Bonaparte 
written the history of his own campaigns, he would, prob- 
ably, have equalled Julius Cccsar, in conciseness and 
vividness of language, as he did, in military skill and 
unbounded ambition. 

As we descend to more modern times, we meet, in 
French, with the writings of Bossuet, Voltaire, &c. 
Among English writers, Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon, 
are conspicuous. 

Our own country, young in its literature, already pos- 
sesses historians of acknowledged merit. To trace our 



144 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

history, from the little band of pilgrims who first landed 
on Plymouth rock, through the trials of our forefathers, 
by savage cruelty, famine, and pestilence, and to follow 
the patriots of the Revolution, through their struggle for 
Independence, are employments which have warmed the 
heart, and engaged the pen, of many a gifted American. 
But what, let me ask, do you suppose to be the chief 
advantage of studying history ? Is it necessary, only, that 
your minds should be stored with a mass of facts ? that 
you should know, that in such a year, the pilgrims landed, 
that in such a year commenced, and in such a year en- 
ded, the Revolutionary War ? All knowledge, to be use- 
ful, must have its practical application. In the character 
of the New-England fathers,' we see many noble exam- 
ples of heroism amidst dangers and discouragements. In 
American history, we see many of our own sex leaving 
their native country, and the elegancies of refined society, 
that they may, in a savage wilderness, across the distant 
ocean, find at 

" Faith's pure shrine, freedom to worship God." 

From such examples, we should derive important moral 
lessons ; from the conduct of those who have preceded 
us, we can gain that most important knowledge, the know- 
ledge of human nature, — of ourselves. 

''Whence come wars and fightings ?" Come they not 
from the evil passions of men ? But none of you are 
heroes or conquerors, who would wade through blood, to 
reach a throne, or post of honor ! True ; but have none 
of you some darling object, in the attainment of which, 
you would trample on the feelings, or wound the hearts, 
of your companions ? Do you never wage the war of 
tongues, which often sting like adders, and poison the 
peace of a fellow-being ? When you read, in history, the 
fate of the ambitious and contentious, you should learn, 
from this, that they, who sow the seeds of strife, reap tho 
fruit of bitterness. 

The chain of historical knowledge is, by no means, an 
unbroken one. There have always been many nations, 
ignorant of written language ; and the historical records 



HISTORY. 145 

of antiquity are far from being all known to us. The his- 
tories of the Eastern, or Oriental, nations, Egyptians, 
Syrians, Chaldeans, and Persians, have mostly perished. 
The Greek and Roman histories, and the Holy Scrip- 
tures, contain all the authentic accounts of a period ante- 
rior to the foundation of Rome. The Roman history is 
the only one, which throws light upon a period of nearly 
five himdred years after Christ. After the fall of the 
empire of the West, the kingdoms of Spain, France, Italy, 
and England, have each its particular history ; and about 
this time, commence the histories of Germany, Hungary, 
Sweden, and Denmark. This period is sometimes called 
the commencement o( middle history. 

Respecting the history of the countries now Moham- 
medan, — Egypt, Syria, Persia, and the northern part of 
Africa, we know little, for the last thousand years. The 
Chinese history is presumed to be, chiefly, a collection of 
fables, and absurd traditions. Of the American Indians 
we have no authentic history, beyond the time of the dis- 
covery of the western continent. We see how little, then, 
is known of the whole actual extent of the globe during 
the course of ages, which have passed since the creation. 
Yet there are histories, without number ; but it is only by 
a careful selection, and perusal of the best authors, that 
much advantage can be derived from them. In early 
youth, history interests the mind, chiefly on account of 
the pleasure derived from narrative. As the student ad- 
vances in life, it ought to be regarded under anew aspect, 
and studied both for the sake of gaining information, and 
forming the mind to habits of discrimination and reflec- 
tion. One who reads history, merely for amusement, or 
who loads the memory with facts, without regard to their 
importance, or an examination of their causes, may read 
much, and yet neither know men, manners, laws, arts, nor 
sciences ; — neither the past nor the present world, nor the 
relations which they bear to each other. 

A modern French writer* on education advises the 
student in history to make use of books of extracts, in 

* M. JuUien, editor of the • Revue Encyclopedique.* 

13 XVIII. 



146 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

which facts and principles may be noted, in a definite and 
systematic order. By this means, the student will, in pro- 
cess of time, possess a collection of practical truths, and 
of illustrations of principle, arranged in order, and furnish- 
ing instruction, at once solid, diversified, and complete. 
The following are some of the subjects, proposed for 
heads, or titles, of the historical common-place book. 

1. Education, or the art of forming the character of 
man. Collect and class, as far as possible, by age and 
by nation, the laws, customs, and facts, relative to public 
or private education, in difi;erent ages and among different 
people. 

2. Politics, or the art cf rendering a people happy. 
Collect the facts, observations, laws, customs, and man- 
ners, which appear to have had an influence upon this 
subject. 

3. Women, — their influence considered among all peo- 
ple, and in all ages. Collect the facts, observations, 
anecdotes, portraits of characters, in short, any thing 
which has had an influence, and still has a bearing, upon 
the condition of females. Point out the effects, salutary 
or otherwise, which different modes of rehgion, education, 
state of society, or manners, have had upon the condition 
and character of women, and, through them, upon the 
whole human race. 

4. Comparison of great men. Arrange, according to 
age, nation, and rank, the distinguished persons of history. 
Describe their characters, the qualities for which they 
were distinguished, the points of resemblance between 
them, the nature and degrees of influence exercised by 
them, upon the age in which they hved, their profession, 
and their country. 

5. Religion. Study, in different ages of the world, 
and among all nations, the different characters of religious 
behef and institutions, their influence upon human char- 
acter and happiness, the means employed for their sup- 
port, and the effects produced by them, upon society at 
large. 

This manner of reading, studying, analyzing, and gen- 
eralizing, will have an important influence, in forming the 



HISTORY. 147 

judgement, strengthening the memory, and giving enlarg- 
ed and correct views of persons and actions, with habits 
of careful observation, and of impartial comparison. 

The method^ above delineated, is particularly recom- 
mended for private reading, especially, when you shall 
have left school, and have no longer the advantage of 
hearing observations and explanations, on the subjects of 
your study. The same method might be followed, with 
equal advantage, in the pursuit of other branches of knowl- 
edge, as well as history. It would be advisable for every 
young lady, after leaving school, to commence a system- 
atic course of historical reading. During the progress 
of school education, not more than an outline of general 
history can be given. This outline, however, will be of 
great importance, in subsequent reading. A good system 
of chronology, or classification of events, in the order of 
time, cannot be too early learned : with this, and an out- 
line of general history, the facts afterwards gained, will 
naturally arrange themselves, under their respective epo- 
chas. On the contrary, without a systematic arrange- 
msnt of historical facts, reading will be of little use. 

Parents sometimes express an indifference, as to their 
children studying history at school, because they can read 
it at home. But history ought to be studied^ in order that 
it may be afterwards read, to advantage. It should early 
be associated with geography ; and maps should be drawn 
and used at each day's recitation. 

After becoming acquainted with Scripture history, it 
would be well to read Josephus's ' Jewish Antiquities,' 
and RoUin's 'Ancient History.' By the assistance of 
these works, and the use of ancient maps, you will ac- 
quire correct and extensive views of ancient history. 
Many lives of the illustrious men of antiquity are highly 
interesting, as well as useful. When contemplating the 
characters of the great and good, we feel the influence 
and utihty of that principle of our nature, which Lord 
Kames has happily called the sympathetic emotion. We 
are seized with the desire of imitating and resembling 
what we admire. Were this sympathetic emotion always 
confined to virtue, the influence of bad examples ivould 



143 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

be less hurtful to society ; but, unhappily, every thing 
which the young mind admires, it is prone to imitate. 

A daring and audacious courage always finds admirers ; 
and that ambition, which would w^ade through blood to 
reach a distinguished post, seems grand and heroic. It 
is, however, very important, that the young should learn 
to look on actions and motives, as stripped of their daz- 
zling accompaniments ; then, will virtue and greatness, 
alone, excite the sympathetic emotion, which prompts the 
desire of imitating. Then, will "the character of the just 
and benevolent Trajan appear far more lovely and de- 
sirable, than that of the aspiring and ambitious Ceesar ; and 
the grasping selfishness of Bonaparte appear mean and 
contemptible, before the generous magnanimity of Wash- 
ington. 

The ^ Travels of Anacharsis the Younger' is a work 
of much merit. The author is the Abbe Barthelemy ; 
he assumes the name of Anacharsis, after the Scythian 
sage, of that name, who was ranked v/ith Thales, Solon, 
and others, termed the seven wise men of Greece. 

Barthelemy, under the name of Anacharsis, supposes 
himself to be travelling in Greece, at the time of Philip 
of Macedon, and during the youth of his son, Alexander 
the Great ; yet, as the historical events related are all 
in strict accordance with truth, the writer is thus enabled 
to present a lively picture of the events of that period. 
He carries his history back to the earhest periods of 
Greece. He lays before us, the laws, form of govern- 
ment, customs, religion, and domestic life, of the various 
people, who composed the confederation of the Grecian 
republic. He explains their mythology, gives the char- 
acters and opinions of their philosophers, describes their 
poetry, and improvements in the arts of painting, music, 
and sculpture. You seem to be transported to Greece, 
in the days of her glory, and to see before you her beau- 
tiful works of art, to hear the thundering eloquence of 
her orators, the majestic numbers of her poets, and the 
wisdom of her sages. After the reading of this work, 
should follow some good history of the rise, progress, and 
decay, of the Roman empire. The Roman historians 



HISTORY. 149 

you will read, in pursuing your classical studies ; but it is 
not to be expected, that many of you will become suffi- 
ciently familiar with their original language, to read it with 
facility. Gibbon's 'Rise and Fall of the Roman Em- 
pire' is well written, and, were it not for the hostility to 
the Christian religion, which occasionally soils his other- 
wise beautiful pages, it might be recommended ; indeed, 
as it is, there is little danger that any one, educated and 
settled in a religious faith, should be otherwise affected, 
by his occasional sneers, than with pity for the mind, which 
could thus bhnd itself to what is most glorious of all the 
works of Almighty benevolence. 

Vertot's ' Roman Revolution' gives an interesting ac- 
count of the origin, manners, and customs, of that repub- 
lic ; it exhibits the political agitations, to which its people 
were subject, with their effect in changing and modifying 
tlieir government. 

The history of the middle ages is well given by Con- 
dillac. Accustomed to reason with metaphysical accu- 
racy, this philosopher was well qualified for a historian, 
whose duty it is, to trace effects to their causes. He ex- 
plains the origin of the feudal power, or authority of the 
barons ; the causes which produced the institutions and 
enthusiasm of chivalry, and its influence upon the man- 
ners, morals, and religion, of those days. He show^s the 
causes, which retarded the progress of science, during 
that dark period, when almost all the learning was in the 
hands of superstitious monks and enthusiastic alchymists, 
and gives a clear and interesting account of the revival of 
learning, in the fifteenth century.* 

Although history is usually divided into ancient and 
modern, it seems very proper, to consider that of the 
middle, or dark, ages, under one point of view. Middle 
history is considered as including that portion of time, 
which intervened, between the destruction of the Western 
Empire, in the year 700, and the revival of letters, at the 
period of the discovery of America, in the fifteenth cen- 
tury. 

* Another valuable work on this subject is Hallam's * View of the 
State of Europe, during the Middle Ages.' 

13* 



150 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Modern histories are numerous. Among the most use- 
ful, are Hume's 'England,' Robertson's 'Charles V.,' 
Voltaire's 'Charles XII.,' Milot's 'France,' Raynal's 
'Pohtical and Philosophical History of the Indies,' Big- 
land's 'View of the World,' Marshall's 'Washington,' 
Pitkin's, Hale's, Goodrich's, and Willard's, ' United 
States,' and Willard's ' History in Perspective.' 

There is one view, in which history appears peculiarly 
interesting to females ; it is, with respect to the gradual 
changes, which have taken place in the condition of their 
own sex. 

In the garden of Eden, woman was cherished, as the 
tender friend, and intelligent companion, of man. We 
have reason to believe this, both from the language of the 
Scripture, " She is bone of my bone, and flesh of my 
flesh," and from the perfect condition of man at that pe- 
riod. For, in order that society should exist in its per- 
fect state, woman must hold that rank, and exercise that 
influence, for which God designed her. But, alas ! wo- 
man was frail, she listened to the voice of flattery, diso- 
beyed the command of God, and influenced her compan- 
ion to become an accomplice in her guilt. From that 
time, she was degraded, and long ages saw her a servile 
being, counted, with his flocks and herds, as the proper- 
ty of man. 

At length, light dawns upon the condition of this ab- 
ject being, whose spirit had been bent and broken by ser- 
vitude. The voice of pardoning mercy says, Woman ! 
*' go, and sin no more." The Saviour of the world looks, 
with pity, upon the suffering being, who clings to Him as 
her Friend and Heavenly Benefactor : she follows Him 
with the constancy of her nature, iVough evil report and 
good report ; is last at His burial, and first at His resur- 
rection. 

Since those glorious events, our sex have been honor- 
ed, wherever the name of the Redeemer is worshipped. 
Many, like Lois and Eunice, the grandmother and moth- 
er of Timothy, bishop of Ephesus, have been the hon- 
ored instruments of promoting the cause of true religion, 
and their praise has been heard in the churches. 



MYTHOLOGY. 151 



CHAPTER XVII. 

MYTHOLOGY. 

The study of mythology, which formerly held a high 
rank in the education of both sexes, especially in Europe, 
has been superseded by more valuable sciences. It now 
appears absurd, to introduce to the young mind the dis- 
gusting fables of ancient heathenism. Nothing can be 
more injurious, in its tendency, upon the glowing imagin- 
ation of youth, than many of the stories connected with 
the Grecian mythology ; and yet they are so interwoven 
with ancient classic literature, and so frequently alluded 
to, by modern writers, especially some of the best En- 
glish poets, that an acquaintance with these fictions seems 
necessary, to those who aim at a knowledge of general 
literature. It becomes, then, important, that mythology 
should be purified of its grossness, as far as possible, 
before a knowledge of it is communicated to the young. 

The term mythology, is derived from the Greek (^v^og, 
muthos^ fable, and Xoyoc, logos^ knowledge. It is a sci- 
ence, which treats of the fabulous opinions and doctrines 
of the ancients, respecting the deities, which they sup- 
posed presided over the world, or influenced its affairs. 
The arts of painting and sculpture have done much to im- 
mortalize the Grecian mythology. Some of the noblest 
specimens of ancient art are to be seen in the embodying 
of mythological fable ; as the famous statues of the Venus 
de Medici, Apollo Belvidere, &c. Architecture has also 
lent its aid, to perpetuate this false and absurd religion. 
Marble temples of the most exquisite workmanship, and 
the most beautiful proportions, were erected in honor of 
the gods and goddesses. At Ephesus, was the famous 
temple of Diana, at Athens, that of Olympian Jove,* 

* Jove and Jupiter are names of the same deity, who is said to have 
resided on Olympus, a niountaia of Macedonia, whence he is called 
the Olympian Jove. 



152 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

and at Delphos, that of Apollo. Within each temple, 
was placed a statue of the deity, and before this, the 
priest offered sacrifice. 

The Athenians, becoming tired of these idle ceremo- 
nies, and losing all faith in their idols, at length erected 
an altar to the " Unknown God." Paul, seizing upon this 
indication of a willingness to be taught a better faith, de- 
clared to them, " Whonij therefore^ ye ignorantly wor- 
ship^ Him declare I unto youy 

I will now attempt to give a brief sketch of the system 
of mythology, as taught by the Grecians, and, with some 
modifications, received by the Romans. 

The origin of the Gods, and the Celestial Deities. 

Referring to the beginning of all things, mythology sup- 
poses there was a time, when only Chaos and JVight ex- 
isted ; they were the parents of Earth, who was the moth- 
er and wife of Uranus, (or Heaven.) From Earth spring 
the hundred-armed giants, Cottus, Gyges, and Briareus, 
the huge, one-eyed Cyclops, Brontes, Steropes, and 
Arges. The gigantic Titans, Oceanus, the Titanides, 
(or female Titans,) are all children of Earth. Saturn, 
the youngest of the Titans, marries Rhea, and from them 
descend Jupiter, Vesta, Ceres, Neptune, Juno, and Plu- 
to. Jupiter, assisted by the Cyclops, who prepare his 
thunderbolts, declares war against Saturn, and his breth- 
ren, the Titans. 

The modern gods, or the descendants of Saturn and 
Rhea, now become distinct from the Titans, or ancient 
deities. War ensues between the two parties. After a 
conflict of ten years, Jupiter, by obtaining the assistance 
of the hundred-armed giants, becomes victorious, and 
hurls his enemies into the gulf of Tartarus.* 

The ancient realm of the Titans is now divided among 
the three victorious sons of Saturn. Jupiter takes the 
government of the heavens and earth, Neptune, of the 
seas, and Pluto, of the infernal or lower regions. The 
hundred-armed giants are appointed to guard the entrance 
into Tartarus, the prison of the Titans. 

* The fabled place of punishment. 



MYTHOLOGY. 153 

Earth, indignant at the treatment of her children, the 
Titans, brings forth a new race, to be their avengers ; 
these are the giants, who also wage war upon Jupiter. 
The giants being subdued, Typlion, another child of 
Earth and Tartarus, appears. The upper part of this 
monster's body was covered with impenetrable feathers, 
and the lower parts were enveloped in the folds of horri- 
ble serpents. This formidable enemy is at length con- 
quered, and secured under mount Etna. After this, two 
sons of Neptune, of immense strength and size of body, 
attempted to scale the heavens, by piling mountains on 
mountains, placing upon Olympus mount Ossa, and upon 
Ossa mount Pelion. Apollo defeats this bold design, 
by destroying the rebels with his arrows. Saturn, after 
his defeat, is said to have fled to Latium, where, under 
his reign, peace and justice flourished, and the earth spon- 
taneouly brought forth her increase : this was called the 
Golden Age. This account of Saturn is founded upon 
the supposed fact, that a king of Latium built, near the 
Tiber, upon the hills where Rome was afterwards found- 
ed, a city called Saturnia. Saturn is represented, upon 
ancient medallions, with a scythe in his hand ; he is the 
symbol of time, which destroys all things, as he destroyed 
even his own children, Prometheus, a son of one of the 
Titans, amusing himself in fashioning a figure, after the 
image of the gods, is suddenly seized with the desire to 
perfect his work, by giving it life and animation. Ac- 
cordingly, he steals from heaven a spark of the sacred fire, 
by means of which, the inert mass becomes endued with 
warmth and intelligence ; this image, he called man. Ju- 
piter, resenting this infringement of his own creating pow- 
er, orders Prometheus to be fastened to a rock, with a 
vulture feeding upon his bowels, which, as fast as they 
were consumed, continued to grow, so that he could have 
no hope that his torments would ever end. Pandora is 
sent, by Jupiter, to present mortals with a box, contain- 
ing all the miseries to which human life has since been 
subject. Hope, at the same time, was given, to save them 
from despair. Jupiter, resolving to destroy the race of 
men, sends upon the earth a deluge, vi'hich overwhelmed 



154 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

all but two persons, Deucalion and Pyrrha. Hercules 
afterwards reconciled Jupiter to Prometheus, and, killing 
the vulture, delivered him from his agonies. 

We see that heathenism, itself, had borrowed light 
from the Sacred Oracles. The wars of Jupiter with the 
Titans and the giants, and their confinement in Tartarus, 
are analagous to the Scripture account of the w^ar against 
the fallen angels, and their expulsion to the regions of 
darkness. The deluge of the heathens seems evidently 
to refer to the flood which God brought upon the earth, 
for its wickedness ; and Deucalion appears to be but 
another name for Noah. Hercules, who was the saviour 
of the world, from monsters who had power over its in- 
habitants, seems to be an imperfect and depraved concep- 
tion of that Saviour, who was afterwards to limit the pow- 
er of Satan upon earth, to save man from the agonies of 
the vulture, sin, which had so long preyed upon his heart, 
and to reconcile him to an Almighty Sovereign. And 
yet these representations, analagous, in some respects, to 
facts communicated in the Scriptures, are so obscured, by 
gross and palpable fictions, that we scarce know wheth- 
er most to pity, or despise, those, who invented and be- 
lieved them. 

Jupiter is called the father of gods and king of men ; 
he is sometimes termed Jupiter Olympus, from the moun- 
tain on which he was supposed to hold council with the 
gods.* The top of Olympus was supposed to rise far 
above the clouds, into a region of pure ether ; here, the 
gods sipped nectar, and enjoyed the music of Apollo's 
lyre, or conversed upon, and determined, the destinies of 
mortals. Jupiter was worshipped in Lybia, by the name 
Jupiter Ammon. He is also called Jove, and is gener- 
ally represented, in antique gems, as seated upon a throne, 
holding a sceptre in his left hand, and the thunderbolts in 
his right, with an eagle at his feet. 

Juno, the queen of heaven, the sister and wife of Ju- 

* " Panditur Intere^ domus omnipotentis Olympi, 

Conciliumque vocat Diviim pater atque hominum rex."— Virgil. 

Meanwhile the palace of all-powerful Olympus is opened, and the 
father of the gods and king of men summons a council. 



MYTHOLOGY. 155 

piter, is represented in ancient sculpture, as seated in a 
chariot, drawn by peacocks, or sitting upon the eagle of 
Jupiter, having, in one hand, a sceptre, and with the 
other, holding a veil, spangled with stars, which floats 
over her head. The character of Juno has ever had too 
many prototypes among our sex ; for beauty often in- 
spires its possessor with the desire of power, which de- 
stroys the softness and delicacy that insure permanent 
affection. Scornful and imperious Juno may excite ad- 
miration, but love can be felt only for a character in 
which there is something gentle and tender j thus Venus, 
with downcast looks and tearful eyes, appears more love- 
ly, than she, " who walked a goddess, and who moved a 
queen." 

Stung with jealousy, by the preference which Paris, 
a Trojan prince, gave to the beauty of Venus, Juno in- 
stigated the Grecian states to make war upon Troy ; and, 
after a ten years' siege, accomplished the destruction of 
that city, and the hated race of Priam, the father of Pa- 
ris. But the Trojan, ^neas, son of Venus and Anchi- 
ses, escaped with the remnant of his companions, and, 
after suffering various ills " by sea and land, on account 
of the unrelenting anger of cruel Juno,* he arrived in 
Italy, and laid the foundation of the Roman empire."! 
Even sullen Juno, if who, through jealousy, had kept the 
heavens, and earth, and sea, in a tumult, was at last ap- 
peased, and became the friend of the Romans. 

Venus, the goddess of love and beauty, is sometimes 
considered as having sprung from the foam of the sea, 
and was hence called Aphrodite ;§ but. among the mod- 
ern deities, she is a daughter of Jupiter and Dione. In 
the character of Venus, we see beauty and softness, with- 
out wisdom or force. Although aware of the dreadful 

* " Saevae memorem Junonis ob iram." 

f "Genus uiide Latinum, 

Albanique patres, atqiie altae mcenia RomjE." 

From whence the Latin race, 



The Alban fathers, and the walls of lofty Rome. 

X "Aspera Juno, 

Quas mare nunc terrasque metu ccelumque fatigat." 

§ From the Greek word, ccfoo?, apkros, foam. 



156 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ruin, which would fall upon the Trojans, in consequence 
of the misdeeds of Paris, yet, so much did she value her 
reputation for beauty, that, in order to secure his deci- 
sion in her favor, she promised him, for a wife, the fairest 
woman upon earth, Helen, wife of Menelaus, king of 
Sparta. Beauty has ever been the cause of much suf- 
fering and folly, and will continue to be so, until females 
shall learn to consider it as subordinate to wisdom, and 
to be cautious, lest they sacrifice the nobler aspirations of 
the heart to the pride of external charms. 

Venus, attended by the Graces, and her son Cupid, is 
represented as seated in a chariot, drawn by doves. The 
famous statue of this goddess, called the Venus de Med- 
ici,* proves the perfection to which the ancients carried 
the art of sculpture. Temples to Venus were erected 
in Paphos, Cytherea, and Lydia. 

Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, is said to have sprung 
forth, in complete armor, from the head of Jupiter. Not 
being the offspring of woman, she is represented as de- 
void of female tenderness, and the softer quahties of the 
sex. While the intellectual powers are, in her charac- 
ter, exhibited in their greatest perfection, the emotions 
seem to form but a small part of her mental constitu- 
tion. She conducted wars, and invented useful arts. 
She was the friend of Ulysses, f and, under the form of 
the aged Mentor, watched over and counselled his son 
Telemachus. 

For a perfect female character, it would be necessary 
that the soft and tender heart of Venus should be added 
to the judging head of Minerva, and the dignity, without 
the pride and haughtiness, of Juno. As to personal beau- 
ty, this depends so much upon the expression of mental 
qualities, united to grace and dignity of demeanor, that 
the plainest daughter of Eve, who should thus unite sen- 
sibilityj wisdom^ and dignity^ would appear beautiful and 
lovely. 

* So called, from its belonging to the collection of a celebrated fam- 
ily named Medici. 

t A celebrated king of Ithaca. The reference here, is to the Story 
of Telemachus, written by Archbishop Fenelon. 



MYTHOLOGr. 157 

Minerva is usually represented with a helmet upon her 
head, in her right hand a spear, and the formidable aegis, 
or shield, with the head of Medusa, in her left. The 
owl, which is sacred to her, is usually seen near her. 
This goddess showed, that she was not wholly destitute 
of that weak vanity, which the world have persisted in 
ascribing to her sex. Having invented the flute, she was 
one day playing on this instrument, when she perceived, 
by the reflection of herself in a river, that the effect upon 
her personal appearance was far from being to her advan- 
tage ; upon this, the fable says, she threw her flute away ! 
Of all the satires of the ancients upon women, this is oue 
of the most severe. 

Apollo, in the Grecian mythology, is made to sustain 
various characters. He is the charioteer of the sun, the 
god of music, medicine, poetry, prophecy, the fine arts, 
and archery. He is called Sol, Phoebus, and Helios. 
Apollo and Diana were twins, the children of Jupher and 
Saturn ; they were born upon the Isle of Delos. Some 
of the goddesses wrapped him in soft garments, while oth- 
ers fed him with nectar and ambrosia. He had no sooner 
tasted the food of the gods, than, throwing off his swath- 
ing bands, he appeared as a blooming youth, and ex- 
claimed, " The golden lyre shall be my joy, the carved 
bow my pleasure ; and in oracles, I will reveal the events 
of futurity." Thus speaking, he marched forth majesti- 
cally, and at length arrived at the foot of mount Parnas- 
sus, whence he ascended to the mansions of celestial be- 
ings. Here, welcomed by the graces, he charmed the 
deities with the tones of his lyre, while the muses respon- 
ded to his harmonic numbers. 

Diana, the sister of Apollo, is represented by the moon, 
as Apollo is by the sun. Three of the goddesses, Mi- 
nerva, Vesta, and Diana, devoted themselves to celiba- 
cy, refusing to yield to the power of Venus, the goddess 
of love. Diana is the patroness of the chase ; she was 
usually represented, by ancient sculptors, with a bow and 
arrow suspended from her shoulder, and a torch in her 
hand. 

Mars, the god of war, was the son of Jupiter and Juno ; 
14 xviii. 



158 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

his characteristics were impetuosity and courage, unre- 
strained by wisdom. On complaining to his father, Ju- 
piter, that Diomedes, aided by Minerva, had wounded 
him, in a combat before the walls of Troy, he was thus 
reproved : " Trouble me not with thy complaints, who 
art, to me, the most odious of all the gods that dwell on 
Olympus, for thou knowest of no other pleasure but strife, 
war, and contest ; in thee dwells the whole character of 
thy mother ; and hadst thou been any other than my own 
son, thou wouldst long ago have been plunged deeper into 
Tartarus, than the Titans." Bellona, the sister of Mars, 
is his charioteer. 

Mercury was the son of Jupiter and Maia, the daugh- 
ter of Atlas. He was born in the morning, and at noon 
leaving his cradle, he saw by the threshhold a tortoise, 
which he thus addressed, " Thou art now dumb, but 
after thy death thy song shall be heard." Having killed 
the animal, he fitted to the shell seven strings, from which 
he drew forth sounds, which so delighted him, that he 
broke forth into praises of the domestic utensils about his 
mother's dwelling, until his song soared at length to the 
sublimest subjects. Mercury was the swift messenger of 
the divinities, and the god of language ; the tongues of 
victims were offered to him in sacrifice. He was also the 
patron of trade, and of cunning devices. The Greek 
name for Mercury was Hermes, a word signifying to inter- 
pret. It is generally believed, that, under these names, 
divine honors were paid to some person, who, in a remote 
period of antiquity, had enchanted mankind by his poetry, 
and benefited them by useful inventions. 

Bacchus, the god of wine, was celebrated by the most 
tumultuous and licentious rites. He is usually represen- 
ted as followed by Silenus, an old man seated upon an 
ass, and reeling with intoxication, while sarcastic satyrs,* 
and sportive fauns,* are dancing around him. 

* Satyrs were supposed to be deities of the woods, and were gener- 
ally represented with the feet and legs of goats, short horns on the 
head, and the whole body covered with thick hair. Famis were rural 
deities, with pointed ears, and tails like goats, and resided principally 
in the fields. 



MYTHOLOGY. 159 

Vulcan, a son of Juno, being deformed and lame, was 
by Jupiter thrown from Olympus dow^n to earth. He 
was afterwards admitted to the assembly of the gods, 
whom he amused with his awkwardness and wit. He 
was the husband of Venus, to please whom, he, with the 
aid of the Cyclops, manufactured arms for jEneas.* To 
him was committed the business of making Jupiter's 
thunderbolts : his principal forge was said to be under 
mount Etna. 

Ceres, the goddess of corn, taught mortals to cultivate 
the earth. She was the mother of Proserpine, whom Pluto 
privately seized, and carried off to the infernal regions, to 
be his queen. Ceres, having learned the abode of her 
daughter, obtained Jupiter's consent for her release from 
hell, provided Proserpine had not tasted the food of those 
realms of darkness ; but this not being the case, she could 
never be wholly restored to her former companionship with 
the celestials. 

Vesta was worshipped by the ancients, as the deity 
who presided over domestic comfort, as the one who taught 
families to gather around the sacred hearth and to pre- 
pare food with fire.f She, they believed, taught man to 
build a shelter for himself, and those he loved ; thus, the 
entrance into a dwelling was called the vestibule, and con- 
sidered as sacred to Vesta. 

Marine Deities. 

The sea was made subject to Neptune, the brother of 
Jupiter. He was the father of the monstrous Cyclop, J 

• " Ferrum, exercebant vasto Cyclopes in antro, 

Brontesque, Steropesque, ct nudus membra Pyracmon." 

The Cyclopes, in their vast cave, labored upon the steel; Brontes, 
And Steropes, and the naked-limbed Pyracmon. 

t The domestic hearth was consecrated to Vesta ; thus, JEne&B : 

" Cinerem et sopitos suscitat ignes ; 
Pergameumque Larem, et canae penetralia Vestae, 
Farrfi pio, et plena supplex veneratur acerri." 

^neas awakes the embers and dormant fire, and suppliant worships 
his Trojan household god, and the shrine of ancient Vesta, with a holy 
cake and full censer. 

J " Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum." 
A huge, misshapen, horrible monster ; to whom sight was wanting. 



160 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Polyphemus, who had but one eye, and had been de- 
prived of that by Ulysses. For this injury, Neptune pur- 
sued Ulysses with his vengeance, causing him to suffer 
shipwreck, and all the perils of the sea ; but from these 
he was preserved, by the aid of Minerva. Neptune pro- 
duced the winged horse, Pegasus. At a certain time, 
he was sent, by his master, to command the Muses to put 
a stop to their songs and mirth, which so shook the sur- 
rounding regions, that mount Helicon itself was dancing 
beneath their feet. Having reached the top of Helicon, 
Pegasus executed his commission, by pawing violently 
upon the ground ; whereupon that fountain burst forth, 
from which it is said, poets have since drank the divine 
inspiration ; this was called Hippocrene. Neptune is 
represented, in antique sculpture, as holding in his hand 
a trident, or fork with three teeth, instead of a sceptre ; 
he is drawn by sea-horses ; his son, Triton, is blowing a 
trumpet, made of a sea-shell, and the dolphins are sporting 
around his chariot. Amphitrite is the wife of Neptune, 
and queen of the sea ; she appears, seated in a car, shaped 
like a shell, and drawn by dolphins ; the sea-nymphs hold 
the sail, which is swelled by the breath of Zephyrus, (the 
west wind.) Like her husband, Amphitrite holds a tri- 
dent in her hand, by which she rules her empire. 

Proteus, a son of Oceanus, is the keeper of Neptune's 
seals ; he is considered an allegorical representative of 
Nature, assuming every variety of appearance, fire, water, 
animal, plant, or mineral. To those only who grasped 
him firmly, did he reveal his real character. 

Infernal Regions and Deities. 

The dominions of Pluto included both Tartarus, the 
abode of the wicked, and Elysium, the .dwelling of the 
good and happy. The Atlantic ocean was considered 
the boundary of the earth ; mount Atlas sustained the 
sky upon its broad shoulders ; and, near the western ho- 
rizon, were the gardens of Hesperides, with their golden 
fruits. 

The river Acheron was the passage from the earth to 



MYTHOLOGY. 161 

the dominions of Pluto, over which Charon ferried depart- 
ed souls, and on the opposite bank was the three-headed 
dog, Cerberus. Cocytus, Styx, Phlegethon, and Lethe, 
were rivers of Tartarus ;* Milton says, 

"Four infernal rivers disgorge 
Into the burning lake their baleful streams : 
Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate ; 
Sad Acheron, of sorrow black and deep ; 
Cocytus, named of lamentation loud 
Heard on the rueful streams ; fierce Phlegethon, 
Whose waves of torrent-fire inflame with rage. 
Far off" from these, a slow and silent stream, 
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls 
Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks, 
Forthwith his former state and being forgets, 
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain." 

Pluto was called by the Greeks, Hades, the Invisible, 
or Unknown. He was sometimes called Stygian Jove. 
At Alexandria, in Egypt, he was worshipped under the 
name of Jupiter Serapis. He was considered as presi- 
ding over the dead, and funeral obsequies. The seizure 
of Proserpine, by Pluto, is considered an allegorical rep- 
resentation of youth and beauty falling a prey to sudden 
death. In these gloomy abodes, Pluto and Proserpine 
are seated in that eternal and mournful silence, which is 
characteristic of their empire. 

Plutus is the god who presides over riches. Deformed 
and wretched, he is represented as seated on a throne of 
gold, under a canopy studded with precious gems. This 
allegory shows the unsatisfying nature of wealth ; thus 
Milton : 

" Let none admire 
That riches grow in hell ; that soil may best 
Deserve the precious bane." 

* " Hinc via, Tartarei quae fert Acherontis ad undaa. 
Turbidus hie cceno, vastaque voragine gurges 
^stuat, atque omnem Oocyte eructat arenam. 
Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumiua servat 
Terribili squalore Charon." 

** Here is a path, which leads to the waters of Tartarean Acheron ; 

here a turbid and impure gulf boils with mud and vast whirlpools, and 

vomits all its sands into Cocytus. A grim ferryman, Charon, frightfully 

squalid, guards these floods and rivers.'-' 

14* 



162 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 



The Fates and Furies. 

The Fates (Parcce) were the destinies who presided 
over the lives and fortunes of man ; Clotho holds the dis- 
taff, Lachesis spins the thread of life, and Atropos, with 
the terrible scissors, cuts it off. 

The Furies were, Tisiphone, the avenger of murder, 
Megsera, the wrathful, and Alecto, the restless. These are 
frightful beings, with snakes instead of hair, and garments 
smeared with blood. The Furies were so dreaded by 
men, that their names were seldom pronounced. They 
were supposed to pursue the guilty, with never-ceasing 
tortures ; thus Orestes, for the murder of his mother, 
was forever followed by their vengeance. 

Demigods. 

Besides the celestial, marine, and infernal gods, the an- 
cients paid divine honors to a race of demigods, or heroes, 
who had distinguished themselves, for some great exploits ; 
as Perseus, who cut off the head of the dreadful Medusa, 
and devoted it to Minerva, who placed it in the centre of 
her shield, the mighty mgis. Perseus delivered Andro- 
meda, the daughter of Casseopeia, from a monster ; these 
names have been immortalized by being transferred to the 
constellations. 

Bellerophon signalized himself by the destruction of the 
monster. Chimera ; Hercules was distinguished for many 
great acts, by which he freed the earth from plagues of va- 
rious descriptions. The names of Theseus, Jason, and 
many other famed heroes, are recorded in the annals of 
mythology. Some of them, undoubtedly, were distin- 
guished men, of a remote period ; others, are probably 
wholly fabulous beings. 

The Mtises, Sirens, and Graces. 

Too much of our time has already been given to the 
consideration of mythological fictions ; and yet we cannot 
close the subject, without noticing a class of imaginary be- 
ings, who in the minds of men seemed to form a connec- 
ting link between the gods and men. These were the nine 



MYTHOLOGY, 163 

Muses, daughters of Mnemosyne, (memory,) to whom 
their venerable mother imparted the treasure of her wis- 
dom : 

Clio was the Muse of history, 
Calliope, of epic poetry, 
Melpomene, of tragedy, 
Thalia, of comedy, 
Polyhymnia, of eloquence, 
Urania, of astronomy, 
Euterpe, of the flute, 
Terpsichore, of the dance, 
Erato, of song. 

The Sirens were represented as sea-monsters, who ap- 
peared from the waist, upward, like beautiful females, 
with the rest of the body like that of a bird ; they attempt- 
ed to rival the Muses, but the songs of the former were 
false and seductive, while those of the latter were true, 
and led to virtue. 

The Graces were, Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrosyne ; 
they were sent to mortals, to inspire kind and agreeable 
feelings. Without their aid, beauty itself was considered 
incapable of commanding homage. They were represen- 
ted as three sisters, who, in their various attitudes, ex- 
pressed every variety of personal dignity and elegant 
motion ; exemplifying, by their union, the tender emotions 
of love, friendship, and kindness. 

Cupid, the son of Venus, was the god of love ; he was 
a beautiful blind boy, generally represented as holding in 
his hand a bow and arrows. 

Rural Deities. 

These were JSTymphs, or beautiful females, who pre- 
sided over the springs and fountains, the forests and the 
hills ; to each of these was supposed to belong its living 
and animating spirit. The *N*aiad sat at the fountain, 
pouring forth the warbling brook from her pitcher. The 
Dryads animated the solemn gloom of the forests, while 
the Hamadryad was confined to her individual tree. In 
the felling of each tree, it was supposed its wood-nymph 
perished. 

The Satyrs and Fauns formed a connecting link be- 



164 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

tween man and the brute creation, having the semblance 
of a human being, united to the horns and feet of a goat. 
They were followers of Bacchus. 

Pan was the principal of the rural deities. He inven- 
ted the reed, or the shepherd's flute. He was feared by 
herdsmen and shepherds, who ascribed all unusual, inex- 
plicable sounds, to Pan j hence, it is said, the term panic- 
struck was derived. 

Among the Romans, every family had its tutelary di- 
vinity. Terminus was the guardian of landmarks ; Pales, 
the goddess of shepherds ; Flora, of flowers ; Pomona, 
of fruits ; Comus, of wit ; Momus, of sarcasm ; Hymen, 
of marriage ; Orpheus, of music; .^sculapius, of medi- 
cine ; Hygeia, of health. 

Among the favorites of the gods, was Ganymede, a 
descendant of Dardanus, the founder of Troy. He was 
the most beautiful of men, and was chosen by Jupiter to 
bear nectar to the gods. Hebe, the former cup-bearer, 
having been careless enough to fall, when performing this 
office, was considered too ungraceful to serve at the table 
of the gods. 

Of the thirty thousand deities, said to have been re- 
cognized by the Grecian mythology, we have named only 
those who are most frequently alluded to by the po- 
ets. From the quotations we have made from Virgil, 
(and these might have been greatly multiplied,) you will 
see, that the jEneid, without some knowledge of these 
fictions, would be divested of much of its interest, and 
indeed would not be understood, in many of its passages. 

Miss Edgeworth remarks, "Classical poetry, without 
the knowledge of mythology, is unintelligible. Divested 
of the charms of poetry, and considered without classical 
prepossession, mythology presents a system of crimes and 
absurdities, which no allegorical, metaphysical, or literal, 
interpreters, of modern times, can perfectly reconcile to 
common sense, or common morality ; but our poets have 
naturalized ancient fables, so that mythology is become 
essential to modern literature. The associations of taste, 
though arbitrary, are not easily changed in a nation, whose 
literature has attained to a certain pitch of refinement, and 



NATURAL SCIENCE. 16^5 

whose critical judgements must, consequently, have been, 
for some generations, traditional. There are subjects of 
popular allusion, which poets and orators regard as com- 
mon property ; to dispossess them of these seems Im- 
practicable, after time has sanctioned the prescriptive 
right." 

We will now turn to subjects, of deeper interest than 
mythological fable, and consider those studies, which 
have for their object, the real existences, with which the 
great Author of our own being has surrounded us. 

How sublime do the truths of revealed religion appear, 
when contrasted with those fables, which the heathen poets 
thought worthy of so much pomp of language ! " I am 
the Lord, and there is no God beside me," is the language 
of " the High and Holy One who inhabiteth eternity." 
He needeth no long train of subordinate agents to accom- 
plish his purposes : " He speaks, and It is done !" 

'' The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof." 
It is this fulness, those works which their Creator pro- 
nounced "good," that, in the study of Natural Science, 
we are led to examine, to analyze Into their original ele- 
ments, and arrange according to their various relations, 
and the laws of that most wonderful of the Almighty's 
works, the human mind. 



CHAPTER XVHL 

NATURAL SCIENCE. ASTRONOMY. NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The erroneous opinions, which have prevailed, with 
respect to education, appear nowhere In a more striking 
light, than In the neglect with which J^ature has been 
treated, by those who aspired to teach useful knowledge, 
and to bring forward the young, fitted for the duties 
of life. Books, in abundance, were given them, and a 
knowledge of their contents was considered a sufficient 
preparation, for the world into which they were about to 
enter. How wonderful, that the great book of jSTature 



166 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

should have been passed unheeded ! that the air they 
breathed, the water they drank, the fire that warmed 
them, the stones beneath their feet, the mountain mas- 
ses, the ghttering mineral, the beautiful flowers, the no- 
ble animals, and the little insects, the pearly treasures of 
the ocean and streamlet ; — how wonderful, that none of 
these should have been thought proper objects of their 
study ! 

There have, indeed, ever been some lovers of Nature, 
who have sought to penetrate her mysteries, and unfold 
her laws ; but the generality of students, in our popular 
schools, have, it might seem, almost studiously been kept 
ignorant of those mysteries and laws, — ignorant of their 
very existence. A plant was seen, simply, as a thing 
ornamental, useful, or noxious. The idea of its relation 
to other plants, to the atmosphere, soil, and light, of its 
being a part in the vast series of creation, never was sug- 
gested during my own school education ; all subjects, 
connected with natural science, being kept out of view, 
in female academies, as much as alchymy or heraldry 
now are. 

Natural philosophy, in the form of a little catechism, 
was indeed introduced, but it was wholly a matter of 
faith ; the idea, that any thing contained in the book 
could be proved, by experiment, could be made manifest 
to our ears and eyes, never presented itself. Chemistry, 
when first taught in schools, was merely theoretical. It 
was, indeed, a laborious task, to learn by heart, without 
the least idea of their properties, long Hsts of hard names ; 
to remember that air was composed of oxygen and ni- 
trogen, and water, of oxygen and hydrogen. Of the real 
existence of these substances, the pupil had as httle con- 
ception, as of the monster Chimera, or any other fabulous 
creation. The subject of chemical analysis can, indeed, 
only be comprehended, by the assistance of the senses. 

At the present time, natural science is receiving, by 
those who superintend the education of youth, that atten- 
tion, which it so deservedly merits. The term, natural 
science, signifies a knowledge of Nature, and, thus com- 
prehensive, it includes not only the consideration of all 



ASTRONOMY. 167 

substances upon the globe, and the atmosphere around it, 
but of the heavenly bodies. This general science of 
Nature is also termed physics , — a word, derived, as I 
have before mentioned, from the Greek, (pva-ig, pfiusis^ na- 
ture. Under the head of Natural Science, according to 
this definition, may be ranked its subdivisions, astrono- 
my, natural philosophy, chemistry, natural history. Un- 
der natural history, are its subdivisions, zoology, botany, 
and mineralogy : and under the latter, is the subordinate 
branch, geology. 

t^stronomy. 

Astronomy is a term derived from the two Greek words, 
a,(rri)p, aster, a star, and fo^w-o?, nomos, a law. We have 
made some allusions to this science, under the head of 
geography ; and our time will not permit us to dwell, with 
minuteness, on each branch of study, however interesting 
and important. 

There is certainly no science, which seems more cal- 
culated to exalt the soul, and fill it with sublime concep- 
tions of the great Author of nature, than astronomy. The 
mere sight of the heavenly bodies, without any knowledge 
of the regularity of their motions ; the uniformity of the 
laws which govern these motions ; the vast distances which 
separate these bodies, and yet their relations to each other ; 
I say, the mere sight of the heavens, without any laiowl- 
edge of all this, is sufficient to inspire the human soul with 
wonder and admiration ; but, when science unfolds her 
discoveries, then truly does man stand abashed before 
Him, who " sitteth upon the circle of the earth," who 
" made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their 
host," who " preserveth them all," and by whom He is 
worshipped. In the words of an elegant writer,* a "seri- 
ous contemplation of the sublime objects, which astrono- 
my has explored, must, therefore, have a tendency to in- 
spire us with profound veneration of the Eternal Jehovah ; 
to humble us in the dust before His august presence ; to 
excite admiration of His condescension and grace, in the 
work of redemption ; to show us the littleness of this 

* Thomas Dick. 



168 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

world, and the insignificance of those riches and honors, 
to which ambitious men aspire, with so much labor and 
anxiety of mind ; to demonstrate the glory and magnifi- 
cence of God's universal kingdom ; to convince us of 
the infinite sources of varied felicity, which he has in his 
power to communicate to holy intelligences ; to enliven 
our hopes of the splendors of that ' exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory,' which will burst upon the spirits of good 
men, when they pass from this region of mortality ; and 
to induce us to aspire, with more lively ardor, after that 
heavenly world, where the glories of the Deity, and the 
magnificence of his works, will be more clearly unfolded." 

JYatural Philosophy. 

From the consideration of the heavens, we descend to 
those branches of the study of Nature, which relate to the 
globe, with the objects upon its surface, and the atmos- 
phere around it. " Natural Philosophy acquaints us with 
the general properties and mechanical laws of bodies, the 
physical laws of attraction, light, and electricity : it is 
founded on observation and experiment, and derives im- 
portant assistance from mathematical science."* Taking 
this definition for our guide, we will briefly consider some 
of the many subjects, embraced in this comprehensive 
science. 

The general properties of bodies. — Our knowledge of 
the properties of matter depends wholly on our senses ; 
and when we say, that it has a certain number of proper- 
ties, we should always consider, that this number is only 
relative to our senses. Take from man the sense of vis- 
ion, and he would have no idea of color, as a property 
of matter ; take away the sense of touch and muscular 
power, and he would have no conception of hardness 
or softness, as a property of matter. So of our other 
senses, the loss of any one of which, would abridge mat- 
ter of some of the properties that we now ascribe to it. 

But suppose, on the other hand, that a new sense were 
added to man ; is it not probable that he would perceive 
new qualities in matter, such as his philosophy has never 

*See the author's 'Dictionary of Chemistry.' 



NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 169 

yet dreamed of ? We see, then, how limited is our knowl- 
edge of the material world. The mind has its five ser- 
vants, the senses, to labor in the great work of finding 
out the mechanism of a world ; and the sphere of their 
operations is so limited and circumscribed, that there are 
probably, in Nature, kingdoms and provinces which they 
have no power to enter, and which are to them wholly 
unperceived. 

How august, how mysterious, appears the world of 
matter around us, when considered in this light ! and how 
does the enumeration of the few properties, which our 
philosophy ascribes to it, strike us with a sense of our 
own limited faculties, which perceive so little of the rich 
variety, the stupendous majesty, of the external world ! 
And yet we know much ; for, though our list of the prop- 
erties of matter be small, the various, and almost infinite, 
relations of each one of these properties is truly aston- 
ishing. 

Matter is known to us, only through the medium of 
the mind, as affected by the senses. We call that, body^ 
matter, or material substance, which can affect one or 
more of our senses. The sight, touch, hearing, taste, 
and smell, are all called upon to give the mind knowledge 
of the existence of matter, and the impossibility of sup- 
posing an effect without a cause renders the existence 
of the cause which acts upon our senses as certain, as 
the existence of the senses which are acted upon.* 

* Dr. Brown supposes, that, of all our senses, none but that of 
touch, aided by muscular action, could give us an idea of an external 
world. " With no sense but that of smell," he says, " the fragrance 
of a rose would appear but as a pleasant feeling, springing up spon- 
taneously in the mind. Music, or sounds of any kind, with the sense 
of hearing only, would give us no idea of any thing without ourselves. 
Taste, separated from the tactual feeling, would not suggest an exter- 
nal object ; even vision," he thinks, " would but paint upon the reti- 
na of the eye an indistinct mass of color without figure, or without in- 
forming the mind of the existence of an external object." But, ac- 
cording to Dr. Brown, the muscular sense is the key which unlocks 
the mysteries of the world without us, and renders our other senses 
of use. We may go along with Dr. Brown, through the considera- 
tion of the senses of smell, hearing, and even taste ; but, when he 
would deny the power of unaided vision, to suggest an external object, 
we feel that he is drawing too largely upon our credulity, and suspic- 

15 xviri. 



170 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

How far matter extends is a subject, on which philos- 
ophy is still as much in doubt, as in the commencement 
of her researches. Newton discovered the principle of 
gravitation, and, on the supposition of its existence, ex- 
plained the relation of the planets, and various other phe- 
nomena of Nature. But what gravitation is, philosophy 
has not presumed to explain. The fragrance of a body, 
we know to be minute particles of the body itself, which, 
diffusing itself into the atmosphere, reach our organs of 
smelling, and thus produce a certain effect on the mind, 
which is termed a sensation. Is gravitation a subtile yet 
powerful fluid, emanating from one body, and drawing 
another towards it ? Is it material } Or, if not, what un- 
known, secret sympathy can actuate masses of inert mat- 
ter, causing them to rush towards each other in a cold 
and dead embrace ? These things are suggested, not 
with a view to confuse your minds, or to lead you to think 
that all philosophy is but speculation, all science a col- 
lection of enigmas. But there are questions in science, 
which are vain and useless ; questions that have occupied, 
to no purpose, the time and talents of those who desired 
to benefit the world. Lord Bacon observed, that there 
was more true philosophy to be found in the workshops, 
than in the schools ; in the former, all was practical ; in 
the latter, utihty was sacrificed to speculation. 

Yet there are now certain principles, estabhshed in 
science, which are subject to no fluctuations, and which 
afford a firm basis for future discoveries. Questions as 
to the essence of matter, the secret springs of the machin- 
ery of the universe, and the first causes of things, are, by 
common consent, exploded as profitless and unfathom- 
able. To watch Nature in her operations, to note the 
processes by which these operations are carried on, and, 
from particular cases to form general conclusions, is now 
the professed aim of men of science. Important apphca- 
tions are thus made of principles discovered, which tend 
to advance the improvement and happiness of society. 

ions being awakened of the legitimacy of his reasonings, we are in- 
clined to take back the assent we yielded to the first of his assertions, 
with respect to the independent agency of each sense, in teaching the 
existence of matter. 



NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 171 

The subjects, embraced by the science of Natural 
Philosophy, are numerous, and highly important. 

Mechanics, investigates the laws of gravitation, as they 
operate in the different phenomena of motion and of cen- 
tral forces. It considers the theory of machines, the 
properties of the mechanical powers, with the principles, 
on which they are made to operate, and the effects to be 
produced. From this branch of natural philosophy have 
originated some of the most wonderful discoveries and in- 
ventions which mark the history of man. Agriculture, 
manufactures, architecture, navigation, the fine arts, and 
even the sciences, themselves, owe to mechanical phi- 
losophy the instruments by which they are severally ena- 
bled to carry on their operations. It is the mainspring 
in social and civilized life ; and he who discovers a new 
principle in mechanics, or a new application of a previous- 
ly discovered principle, is more useful to the world, than 
he who writes volumes of idle hypotheses, however rich 
or fascinating the language in which they are communi- 
cated. " Happy he, whose name descends to posterity, 
as the author of a useful invention, or the discoverer of a 
new principle. We cannot honor too much the man, 
who opens a new career of knowledge to the human mind. 
The difficulty of the first discovery is always the greatest; 
and the merit of inventing is always greater than that of 
perfecting ; as, in total darkness, it is more difficult to 
strike a light, than to kindle others by the flame of the 
first."* 

Hydrostatics treats of the pressure and equilibrium of 
water ; the term is derived from the Greek, t>^^p, hudor, 
water, and o-t«.to?, statos, to stand. 

Hydraulics, derived from v}a)^, hudor, water, and a.vXo?, 
aulos, a pipe, is a branch of hydrostatics, and signifies the 
science of conveying water by pipes. 

Pneumatics, from -^vsvfx^a., pneuma, air, and fto^ijo-i?, 
mathesis, learning, treats of the nature and properties of 
the atmosphere. 

Acoustics, from cticovo), akouo, I hear, treats of sound, 
its laws, and the various phenomena connected with it. 
* Encyclopedie Portative. 



172 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Optics, from oTrrncog, optikoSj the eye, treats of vision, 
and the laws which govern the transmission and reflection 
of hght. 

Electricity was so named from its having been discov-. 
eredin amber, which, in Greek, is called ijXsJtTpoj/, electron. 
This science explains the operations of one of the most 
wonderful, and all-pervading, principles in Nature. The 
electric fluid appears to be diffused as extensively as mat- 
ter itself, and to operate, not only in the terrific phenome- 
non of lightning, but to be active in some of the most si- 
lent and gradual changes in Nature. Chemical attraction 
has, of late, been suspected to be owing to a union of the 
negative and positive electricities ; and even the physio- 
logy of organized life has been thought to bear some mys- 
terious relation to the electric fluid. 

Galvanism, so named from Galvani, the discoverer, is 
considered as a modification of electricity, diftering, how- 
ever, in this circumstance, that, in the former, the effects 
are mostly produced by the chemical action of bodies 
upon each other, while in the latter, the effects seem to 
be more the result of mechanical action. 

^Magnetism. This singular principle resides in the load- 
stone, or the deutoxide of iron. The magnet is known, 
by its property of attracting steel and iron. It is an iron 
ore, composed of 72 parts of metal, and 28 of oxygen. 
A fragment of this metal, if placed upon a pivot, always 
points to the north and south ; its ends are called the 
north and south poles ; the opposite poles of two mag- 
nets attract, while the similar poles repel, each other.* 
The most important use of the magnet is, the certainty 
with which it guides the mariner through the trackless 
ocean ; and, were this the only advantage, to be derived 
from its discovery, the benefits would be incalculable. 
The magnetic fluid appears to have an intimate connec- 
tion with electricity and galvanism, as those have with light 

* The magnetic needle is a small bar of iron, which has been rub- 
bed upon a magnet or loadstone, till it has acquired the magnetic prop- 
erty. It is then placed upon a pivot or point, in such a manner as to 
turn in any direction, when its ends will always point towards the north 
and south. 



NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 173 

and heat ; and it has been suggested, that all these agents 
are but modifications of one great principle.* 

Sketch of the History of JYatural Philosophy. 

Having now remarked, in a very general manner, upon 
the subjects embraced under natural philosophy, we will 
glance at the origin and progress of this science. The 
ancient philosophers, in their schools, considered, without 
any reference to their different objects, the various kinds 
of knowledge. They united natural, with moral, philos- 
ophy. Their progress in the latter science was much 
greater, than in the former. 

Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece, who 
lived four hundred years before Christ, was the founder of 
the Ionian school of philosophy. He is the most ancient 
of the Greek philosophers, who applied themselves to the 
study of Nature. He explained eclipses, discovered elec- 
tricity in amber, and made some important experiments. 

Pythagoras, one hundred years after Thales, in his 
school, rendered illustrious by the discovery of the true 
system of the earth, taught something of the theory of 
sounds, and other subjects, connected with natural phi- 
losophy ; but, as he built theories upon hypothesis, and 
not upon experiment, nothing practical was added by 
him, to the science. He is celebrated, as just observed, 
for having suggested the true theory of the earth, after- 
wards revived by Copernicus. 

Democritus, four hundred and seventy years before 
Christ, employed himself in the study of mechanical 
philosophy ; he suggested the atomic theory of bodies, 
namely, that all bodies consisted of certain minute parts, 
or atoms^ which were indivisible ; these were called, ulti- 
mate atoms. Democritus was considered as guilty of 
contempt towards man, because he occupied himself more 
in the study of matter, than of mind. His works being 
lost, all that continued to be known, on the subject of 

* Electricity, Galvanism, and Magnetism, are usually treated of, 
under the head of Chemistry, as well as of Natural Philosophy. In- 
deed, some chemists have been led to conjecture, that all chemical 
decomposition is performed by the agency of the opposite electricities. 

15* 



174 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

natural philosophy, was, what related to certain of the 
arts, such as the workuig of metals. It was thought be- 
neath the dignity of science, to descend to what was mere- 
ly useful. Plato reproached geometry, for descending to 
assist the necessities of man. 

Aristotle, whose name has been held in almost idola- 
trous reverence, by the followers of science, seems not to 
have arrived at any general principles, by his manner of 
investigating. His facts were insulated and incomplete, 
and appear not to have suggested any means of generali- 
zing ; indeed, his metaphysical ideas were averse to gen- 
eralization. Thus we find the progress of physics retar- 
ded, by the false views then entertained of the nature of 
the mind. The science, founded on facts, is comparatively 
of modern origin ; the laws of science, derived from the 
comparison of well-established facts, are still more recent. 

Archimedes, of Syracuse, flourished about two hun- 
dred and fifty years before Christ. He united to the most 
profound knowledge of mathematics, a close observation 
of natural phenomena, and an uncommon genius for in- 
vestigation. He discovered the manner of ascertaining 
the specific gravity of bodies, by weighing them in water ; 
experimented upon solar rays by concentrating them to a 
focus, and made many observations upon the refraction of 
light. This philosopher seemed intuitively to conceive, 
that the proper method of philosophizing was, to collect 
facts, to combine them, and thus estabhsh general laws ; 
that, afterwards, by applying these laws to Nature, a new 
mode of discovery might be obtained, leaving it to future 
experience to prove the theories thus suggested. 

After Archimedes, no genuine student of Nature appears, 
ii^ a long career of ages. As men had before seemed to 
want science, science now wanted men. And, until the 
investigations of Bacon and Galileo, in the seventeenth 
century, nothing of importance was added to physical sci- 
ence. Bacon did not, indeed, add to science, by any 
actual discoveries ; but he pointed out the mode, by 
which investigations should be conducted, in order that 
advances might be made. Experiment and observation 
were, by him, considered the only sure routes to an accu- 
rate knowledge of Nature. 



NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 175 

Galileo, about this time, made an accurate calculation 
of the ratio of falling bodies, giving the first application of 
mathematics to physics. Torricelli, the pupil of Galileo, 
invented the barometer. Bayle invented the air-pump. 
The scientific societies of London and Paris were found- 
ed, encouragement was offered for discoveries, and new 
works were published. At length, science was enligh- 
tened, by the discoveries of Newton. The methods of 
observation and calculation, of this great man, have been 
followed by later philosophers ; and even the ability to 
comprehend his works has been considered a proof of 
high intellectual powers. The influence of this one indi- 
vidual, in all the sciences of observation, would be a subject 
worthy of interest. If we add, to his own discoveries, 
those which he suggested, and the improvements which 
these have produced, in other sciences, we can form 
some idea of the vast influence which one great mind may 
exercise upon the knowledge^ virtue^ and hap-pinessj of the 
world. 

Since the time of Newton, many important discoveries 
have been made, in mechanical philosophy. The arts of 
steam-navagation, construction of rail-roads, &c., are, at 
this period, effecting a change In the future condition of 
the world, greater than we, at present, can conceive ; 
and the Improvements, which may arise upon those al- 
ready made, are beyond the utmost stretch of imagination. 

Before closing our remarks on the study of natural 
philosophy, permit me to remind you, that this is emphat- 
ically a science of facts. While pursuing it, turn your 
thoughts to the real appearances of Nature around you ; 
consider the knowledge of books as nothing, but as it 
serves to explain the changes which are constantly taking 
place. If you enter a mechanic's shop, examine the im- 
plements, machinery, or mode of operation, with a view 
to the application of your theoretical knowledge. Do 
not scorn to listen to the most simple account of mechan- 
ical operations ; they are carried on by principles, which 
you have learned from books, and which the mechanic, 
thougli ignorant of science, understands practically. If 
you are travelling, in a steam-boat, or upon a rail-road, 



176 . THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

make yourselves acquainted with the principles, by which 
the motion is produced, or which are involved in the con- 
struction of the machinery ; or, if you understand these 
principles, do not fail to notice, whenever you see them 
practically illustrated. 

Females exhibit, in general, far less observation than 
the other sex. They incline, too much, to live in the Ht- 
tle world of their own thoughts. Let two young persons, 
of different sexes, unaccustomed to travelling, find them- 
selves, for the first time, on board a ship or a steam-boat. 
The female, probably, occupies herself with thoughts of 
the friends from whom she has parted, or of those whom, 
she expects to meet ; memory and imagination are busy, 
but her powers of observation slumber, unless, perhaps, 
exercised in noticing the dresses of those around her, 
their peculiarities of manners, and probable standing in 
society. The young man, very hkely, examines the con- 
struction of the ship or steam-boat, its size, the velocity 
with which it moves, and the scenery which presents itself. 

I am far from asserting, that there is always this differ- 
ence, in the operations of the mind, in the sexes ; for 
there are females, of close observation upon works of art 
and Nature, and men, who observe superficially. The 
study of natural science tends to produce habits of ob- 
servation ; and, in this respect, as well as its general ten- 
dency to enlarge the mind, and to render life more happy, 
and more correspondent to the dignity of our nature, is 
deserving the attention of females. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

CHEMISTRY. HISTORY OF CHEMISTRY. 

The science of chemistry is of peculiar interest to fe- 
males ; its apphcations to domestic economy are numer- 
ous and important. These ajiplications are, however, but 
little understood. The reason of this is, that chemists 
are not housekeepers, and housekeepers are not chemists. 



CHEMISTRY. 177 

The various processes, in culinary operations, are mostly 
performed on chemical principles ; yet those principles 
are seldom known or thought of, by those who perform 
the operations. I am aware, that many a good house- 
wife might smile at my remarks, and say, she would not 
exchange her experience^ for all the theories which chem- 
istry can give. It is very true, that your excellent moth- 
ers and grandmothers may possess that experience, in do- 
mestic concerns, which enables them to perform compli- 
cated operations, with ease and safety ; but even they, I 
think, would delight to understand the causes of effects, 
which they have been, for so many years, witnessing, and 
agents in producing. 

For instance, no article is in more common use, in 
housekeeping, than pearlash. In making some kinds of 
cake, this is used, to render it light. The common meth- 
od is, to put vinegar into the pearlash, and, while it is ef- 
fervescing, to add it to the other materials. 

But why does pearlash make cake light ? If you were 
to inquire thus, of many women, they would conceive it 
to be a '' foolish question:" they would say, perhaps, 
" because it is natural^'' ^ or, " because it does.'''' I would 
not, unnecessarily, expose a weakness of my sex ; but 
we are quite too apt to give, for a reason, that which is 
no reason at all. 

The simple explanation of the process, above mention- 
ed, is this ; pearlash is a carbonate of potash^ or potash 
united to carbonic acid ; vinegar contains a peculiar acid, 
called acetic acid; for this acid, potash has a greater af- 
finity, than for carbonic acid. When vinegar is added to 
carbonate of potash, the potash, choosing the acetic acid 
of the vinegar, begins to expel the carbonic acid ; this 
produces an effervescence ; the effervescing mass being 
added to the flour, the carbonic acid, in the form of lit- 
tle bubbles of air, instead of passing into the atmosphere, 
becomes entangled in the gluten of the flour, swells it out, 
and thus makes the cake light. The potash forms, with 
the acetic acid, the new combination, acetate of potash. 

When bread is suffered to rise, or ferment, too long, 
the acetous^ or souring, fermentation begins, and the 



178 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

dough becomes sour. In order to remedy this, a solution 
of pearlash (carbonate of potash) is introduced ; the ace- 
tic acid, which causes the sourness, is absorbed by the 
pearlash, and the carbonic acid of the pearlash is set free. 
This, escaping in the form of little air bubbles, increases 
the lightness of the dough. 

You will perceive, from the examples now given, that 
chemistry is a science, which is intimately connected with 
the peculiar business of women. But, as I have already 
remarked, its applications to domestic operations, although 
numerous and important, are yet far from being as ex- 
tensive, as we might expect, from the j^erfection which 
chemistry has attained. It is to be hoped, that, as edu- 
cated women engage in the duties of housewifery, culin- 
ary chemistry will receive more attention than it has here- 
tofore done. 

History of Chemistry * 

The term chemistry is, by some, supposed to be de- 
rived from the Greek word x^{^°?> chumos, to melt, or the 
Arabic chemia^ or kema^ which signifies to burn. This 
science, at first, signified the examining of substances, by 
fire. By others, the word chemistry is supposed to have 
been used by the Egyptians, in a sense equivalent to the 
present meaning of the terra natural philosophy. Sci- 
ence, among the Egyptians, was for a long time confined 
to the wise men, or magi., who carefully concealed their 
knowledge from the people. Plutarch supposes that the 
study of Nature, for this reason, was called chemistry, 
which word, in his opinion, signified the secret science. 
Whatever might have been the degree of knowledge of 
Nature, possessed by the Egyptians, they were probably 
acquainted with the most important facts, on which the 
science of chemistry is founded. 

The Israelites gained from the Egyptians some knowl- 
edge of the art of working metals, and of dyeing red, 
blue, purple, and scarlet. The Phoenicians are supposed 
to have understood the art of manufacturing glass, per- 

* This History of Chemistnj is taken from the author's ' Dictionary 
of Chemistry.' 



HISTORY OF CHEMISTRY. 179 

fumes, and imitations of precious stones. This knowledge 
was successfully communicated to the Carthaginians and 
Greeks, and by them to the Romans ; the two latter peo- 
ple seem, however, to have possessed but a very limited 
knowledge of any chemical operations, or any branch of 
analytical science. Plato seemed sensible of this, when 
he makes an Egyptian priest say to Solon, "You Greeks 
will be always children ; for you have neither the antiqui- 
ty of knowledge, nor the knowledge of antiquity." The 
religious belief of the Greeks and Romans may afford 
some excuse for their ignorance of Nature ; for who, 
among them, would have dared to take water from a foun- 
tain, or a river, and decompose it by fire ? They would 
have considered it as a sacrilege against the Naiad, or the 
protecting divinity of the stream : the grand priest would 
have exclaimed against the impious wretch, and the peo- 
ple, in their indignation, would have torn him to pieces. 

Although the Egyptians were idolaters, yet less imagi- 
nation was mingled with their religious belief, than with 
that of the Greeks and Romans ; and, free from many of 
the superstitions which kept other nations in intellectual 
bondage, they dared to look into the secrets of Nature. 
Pliny, the elder, places the Egyptians as first, in the 
knowledge of the sciences. Democritus, of Thrace, who 
flourished in the year 500 before Christ, travelled into 
Chaldea, Persia, and Egypt. In the last country, he 
gained a knowledge of chemistry, that appeared, to Pliny, 
almost superhuman; and yet this classic and venerable 
land has transmitted to us scarcely a vestige of any dis- 
coveries ! But we cease to be surprised at this, when v/e 
reflect, that the library of Alexandria, which contained 
their treasures of knowledge, was successively destroyed 
by the victorious Romans, and Mohammedans. 

Science, driven from Egypt, Greece, and Rome, in 
the fourth century, took refuge in Arabia, and chemistry 
appeared under the name of alchymy. 

The alchymists imagined that gold existed in all met- 
als. It was their great object, to ascertain the manner 
in which it might be separated from its combinations, and 
obtained pure ; and they expected to find some substance, 



180 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

which would enable them to perform this great operation. 
This imaginary substance, which some pretended to have 
discovered 5 was called the philosopher's stone. Those 
who studied alchymy pretended to great secrecy ; affir- 
ming, that some heavy calamity would fall upon any one, 
who should reveal the principles of the science. Keeping 
themselves separate from the world, they Invented mys- 
terious characters, by which the initiated could hold cor- 
respondence, without danger of discovery. 

Among the alchymists, notwithstanding the folly of their 
pursuit, and the baseness of their deceptions, we find the 
names of a few, distinguished for talents and learning. 
Albert the Great, a German, who lived in the twelfth cen- 
tury, wrote a work upon alchymy, in which he described 
the chemical process then in use. His treatise on metals 
was written with clearness, and showed a mind familiar 
with many of the phenomena of Nature. His country- 
men, astonished at the extent of his knowledge, accused 
him of magic, and threw him Into prison. His pupil, 
Thomas Aquinas, wrote upon alchymy, and, for the first 
time, the word amalgam was introduced into chemistry. 
In his writings, astrology and alchymy were united. 

In England, contemporary with Albert the Great, was 
Roger Bacon, the most enlightened and judicious of all 
the alchymists. In his treatise, ' De mirabili potestate 
artis et naturce.,'^ (of the wonderful power of Art and Na- 
ture,) he protested against the foolish belief in magic, 
charms, and necromancy ; he asserted, that superstition, 
tyrannized over the human mind, through ignorance of 
natural phenomena. He was acquainted with the camera 
obscura, telescope, and the use of gunpowder. Notwith- 
standing he carefully concealed his labors, he was accused 
of magic, and imprisoned. Raymond Lully treated of 
the preparations of acids, and of phosphorus. 

About the middle of the twelfth century, Arnold de 
Villa Nova, a physician, eminent among kings and popes, 
directed alcohol and the oil of turpentine to be used In 
medicinal preparations. John and Isaac Holland pub- 
lished several treatises on chemistry, with plates, repre- 
senting the apparatus which they used. They made ex- 



HISTORY OF CHEMISTRY. 181 

periments upon human blood, which have aided the more 
recent discoveries. They invented the art of enamelling 
and coloring glass and precious stones. 

Basil Valentine, a German monk, taught that all sub- 
stances were composed of salt, sulphur, and mercury ; he 
was the first, who apphed chemistry to medicine. The 
most important of his works was called, ' Currus Trium- 
plialis Antimonii^'' (triumphal chariot of antimony.) In 
this, he gave such an account of his experiments with this 
metal, as excited an interest among all the physicians of 
Europe. 

An opinion had long prevailed, among the alchymists, 
that a medicine might be discovered, which should be a 
universal cure or panacea * for all diseases ; some asser- 
ted, that this could be found in the philosopher's stone, 
which not only converted metals into gold, but, among 
other extraordinary virtues, possessed the power of ren- 
dering man immortal upon the earth. 

Of all the alchymists, none appear to have pretended to 
so many discoveries, as Paracelsus, a native of Switzer- 
land, born in 1493. He confidently boasted, that he was 
in possession of an ehxir, which would render him immor- 
tal ; but he died in the prime of life, leaving his followers 
overwhelmed with shame and dismay. The last of the 
alchymists, was Van Helmont, who boasted of being in 
possession of the universal remedy, to which he gave the 
name o^ alkahest. 

The alchymistical system crumbhng into ruins, chem- 
istry, like the fabled Phoenix, arose from its ashes. Bec- 
cher, a professor of medicine, in Germany, taught, that 
the earth was not a simple element, but a combination of 
elements ; be attempted to establish chemistry on its true 
basis, that of analysis. His experiments were of great use 
to succeeding chemists. 

Stahl, the pupil of Beccher, remodelled and simphfied 
the theory of his predecessors, attempted to explain the 
process of combustion, and to reduce the phenomena of 
chemistry under a certain number of heads. His theory 

* This term is drived from two Greek words, Ttar, pan, all, and axog, 
akos, medicine, signifying to cure all. 

16 xviii. 



182 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

of combustion supposed, that a certain substance, which 
he called phlogiston, formed a part of all combustible bod- 
ies, and that its separation constitutes fire. On account 
of the boldness of his investigations, he was called the 
sublime Stahl. He is the first chemist, who appeared to 
have any clear ideas of chemical affinity ; he even sug- 
gested the theory of double elective attraction. 

At this period, many learned men were engaged in 
chemical pursuits, and the science was enriched by the 
discoveries of Boyle, Agricola, Glauber, Kunckel, Li- 
bavius, Bohnius, Lemery, and others. 

Boerhaave, an accomplished philosopher and celebra- 
ted physician, published a system of chemistry, in 1732, 
which contained a more ample collection of chemical 
experiments, and more clear and precise directions for 
repeating them, than any previously offered to the world. 
He gave an account of vegetable analyses, more simple 
and scientific than any which had before appeared. 

Notwithstanding all these improvements, chemistry was 
yet in a very imperfect state ; some of the absurd no- 
tions of the alchy mists still remained, and loose and un- 
satisfactory reasonings, founded on vague analogies, were 
employed. It was not for a common mind to attempt to 
remove the shackles of prejudice, which ages had been 
riveting upon the human intellect. At this time, appear- 
ed Bergmann, a man gifted with a quick and discrimina- 
ting genius, a moral courage, that could look above '' the 
world's dread laugh,'' and a devoted enthusiasm for the 
science of chemistry. 

With a true analytical method, he scrutinized Nature, 
with a view to ascertain her laws of aggregation ; he ar- 
ranged the well-known tables of elective attractions, and 
published many important experiments upon volcanic pro- 
ducts. The clearness of his conceptions, the accuracy 
of his observations, and the methodical arrangement which 
he introduced into the science of chemistry, entitled Berg- 
mann to a rank among its greatest benefactors. A na- 
tive of the same country, and contemporary with Lin- 
naeus, it was his high destiny, to labor with almost equal 
success, in the cause of natural science. While Linngeus 



HISTORY OF CHEMISTRY. 183 

was investigating the external forms of Nature, with a 
view to the systematic arrangement of the animal, vege- 
table, and mineral, kingdoms, Bergmann was analyzing 
and arranging the elements^ of which they are composed. 
With the frankness and generosity which marks a noble 
mind, he sent to Linnseus an account of his experiments 
and observations. The latter, equally generous, for- 
warded Bergmann's communications to the academy of 
Stockholm, with this inscription, *' Vidi^ et obstupui,^' 
(I have seen, and am amazed.) 

Scheele, the pupil and friend of Bergmann, enriched 
chemistry with new and important facts. He died in 
1786, two years after the death of his predecessor. His 
name is commemorated in that of a compound of copper 
and arsenic, (arsenite of copper,) called ScheeWs green. 
By a late distinguished chemist,* he is called the Newton 
of chemistry. 

Soon after the death of Bergmann and Scheele, a se- 
ries of splendid discoveries marked the advancement of 
chemical science, in Great Britain. Dr. Black discov- 
ered the existence of latent caloric, and that limestone is 
a compound of lime and an aerial fluid, which he called 
fixed air, now called carbonic acid gas. This discovery 
gave rise to pneumatic chemistry, or that branch of the 
science which relates to gases. 

Mr. Cavendish, soon after this, discovered hydrogen 
gas. In 1770, Dr. Priestley commenced a series of 
pneumatic experiments : he observed, that, by heating 
certain metals, a kind of air was obtained, much purer 
than the atmosphere, and in which combustible substan- 
ces burned, with great brilliancy. It is scarcely neces- 
sary to say, that this was oxygen gas. 

While the science of chemistry was receiving these 
important acquisitions, in one part of Europe, Lavoisier, 
in France, had already commenced his brilhant career, 
and opened, to his countrymen, that pathway to scientific 
distinction, which so many have since pursued, with al- 
most unrivalled success. Lavoisier found, that the re- 
cent discoveries, with respect to gases, could not be rec- 

* Thomson. 



184 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

onciled with the phlogistic theory of combustion ; and, 
after years of patient and laborious investigation, he pub- 
hshed the grand theory, which considered oxgyen as the 
supporter of combustion. This theory, at first, met with 
general opposition, but gradually gained supporters, until 
Cavendish, Berthollet, Black, Morveau, Fourcroy, and 
Kirwan, (the latter of whom had strongly opposed it,) 
were found among its disciples. 

In 1787, Lavoisier, Fourcroy, Berthollet, and Guyton 
de Morveau, were appointed, by the French academy, 
to decide upon a nomenclature of chemistry : with great 
care and research, they formed that, which is now the al- 
most universal language of the science. 

Great Britain boasts of many distinguished modern 
chemists ; of Davy, the inventor of the safety lamp ; of 
Murray, Brande, and Thomson, with many others, whose 
labors have enlightened the present age, and whose works 
will render their names familiar to succeeding genera- 
tions. 

On the continent of Europe, Berzelius, Vauquelin, Ber- 
thollet, Gay-Lussac, Thenard, Dumas, Dulong, Pelle- 
tier, and others, have carried their researches and analyses 
to a degree of accuracy and clearness, hitherto unrivalled. 
The year 1829 is memorable, for the loss sustained by 
science, in the death of two of her most distinguished 
votaries, Vauquelin and Davy. 

In America, Franklin, fearlessly encountering the 
lightning from heaven, proved its identity with electricity, 
and taught mankind to guard against this awful agent of 
destruction. Hare and Silliman, with other veterans in 
the science, and less experienced chemists, are interro- 
gating Nature, with a brighter prospect of discovery, than 
that which encouraged the efforts of their predecessors : 
for, as the field of discovery and improvement is infinite, 
in proportion as facilities for them are multiplied, so are 
the motives for exertion. As proper would it have been, 
at the period when earth, air, fire, and water, were con- 
sidered as the four elements of Nature, for an investiga- 
ting mind to have rested in this behef, as, at this day, for 
us to suppose, that w^e have arrived at the maximum of 



NATURAL HISTORY. 186 

human knowledge, or have already learned as much of 
the properties of Nature, as its Almighty Creator wills 
that we should know. 

From the nature of chemical experiments, which, in 
most cases, require either firmness of nerve, unshrinking 
courage, or physical strength, and sometimes all these 
qualities combined, woman may not aspire to add, to the 
stock of chemical science, discoveries of her own ; but, 
gifted with the intellectual power to trace the relations 
of cause and effect, and comprehend the wonderful prop- 
erties of matter which science reveals, she may dare to 
raise the curtain, which conceals the operations of Nature, 
and, entering her laboratory, behold the grand experi- 
ments there exhibited : nor should it be considered a 
small privilege, that she is permitted to share in the sub- 
lime discoveries of science, and to feast on the banquet 
of knowledge, prepared by others. 

Is it more noble, for an immortal soul thus to employ 
itself, in learning the second causes by which the Deity 
operates, in the material world, than to waste the precious 
hours of existence, in dreaming over sickly works of fan- 
cy ? Can the admirers of subhmity and beauty find none, 
in the study of Nature ? or can the lover of the marvel- 
lous find no wonders, in her operations ? There is, in 
chemistry, poetry to satisfy the most extravagant fancy ; 
and in the sublime truths of the science, are mysteries, 
far surpassing the boldest conceptions of human genius. 



CHAPTER XX. 

NATURAL HISTORY. ZOOLOGY. BOTANY. 

In the study of Nature, we become familiar with the 
works of God. We contemplate the heavens above, the 
materials of the earth beneath, and the objects around us ; 
and we are led to feel, that they must have had a Divine 
Author. Whether we view the works of Nature on a 
large scale, as exhibited in the more magnificent parts of 
16* 



186 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

creation, or, with microscopic eye, examine the structure 
of a crystal, an insect, or a blade of grass, we are alike 
struck with wonder and awe. We bow, in adoration, be- 
fore Him, to whom nothing is great, and whose minute 
providence is over all, even the least of his works. The 
study of Nature has a tendency, both to humble and to 
exalt man in his own eyes. When he compares his own 
powers, physical and mental, with that Omnipotence, 
which the works of Nature manifest, he feels, that he is 
''less than nothing, and vanity;" but, when he finds, 
within himself, faculties capable of investigating the prop- 
erties of these wonderful objects, of arranging them in 
classes, of discovering their laws of organization, and of 
decomposing them into their original elements, he feels 
himself ennobled ; he realizes, that these faculties must 
be those of a soul, capable of still higher attainments. It 
is, indeed, salutary, to hold converse with the works of 
God, — that volume, which has been emphatically termed, 
*' the elder scripture, writ by God's own hand.'' 

All material bodies, as animals, plants, and minerals, 
are subject to chemical observations and experiments ; 
but, for this, they must be pulverized, dissolved, distilled, 
or melted. By a series of such and other processes, 
the chemist arrives at the knowledge of the elements 
which compose the various bodies, organic and inorganic, 
with which he meets. 

In natural history, a term, which comprehends zool- 
ogy, botany, and mineralogy, we view animals, plants, 
and minerals, as they exist in their complete state ; we 
observe their external forms, and the various changes 
which Nature produces in them. The first object of the 
naturalist is, to know the productions of Nature, and to 
distinguish the various kinds or species, from each other. 
The next is, the arrangement of these species under more 
general divisions ; and, again, to simphfy these divisions, 
until, under a few classes, he arranges the almost infinite 
variety of natural productions. 

Zoology. 
The term zoology is derived from the Greek {<yov 



ZOOLOGY. 187 

zoon, a living thing, and Xoyoe, logos^ a discourse. This 
science examines and classes those organized beings, 
which are termed animal. The distinction between ani- 
mal and vegetable life is not, in all cases, so clear as 
might be imagined ; yet, in general, it is sufficiently ap- 
parent. It is only when we examine, with close atten- 
tion, the various phenomena in the vegetable and animal 
kingdoms, that we learn to doubt, as to the exact bounda- 
ries by winch they are separated. 

The branches of zoology, which may be pursued most 
easily and most agreeably, by females, are, conchology^ 
and entomology. Conchology presents, to the eye of 
taste, many splendid and curious objects. Fashion, with 
her potent wand, seems to have ordered shells a place 
in the saloon and drawing-room, and it now remains for 
science to make her claim to the right of arranging them, 
according to her own methodical and philosophical rules. 

" To procure shells, in their native situation, is by no 
means difficult ; they may be picked up in ledges, and 
on banks ; drawn out of ponds and rivers, along with 
weeds ; collected on the seashore, or among rocks ; or 
they may be found among the refuse, in fishermen's nets. 
To obtain an extensive collection, in this way, would, 
however, require much time and travelling, or the kind 
aid of many friends ; enough, however, to illustrate the 
classes, orders, and many of the families, may be thus 
easily assembled, and afford much practical instruction. 
We recommend such a commencement, before recourse 
be had to the more usual mode of obtaining a collection ; 
namely, that of purchase. If the latter means be resorted 
to, the buyer should be satisfied, that each shell is perfect 
and full grown, and, if only one of the kind be selected, 
well colored, and as much in its natural state, as a free- 
dom from foreign matters will permit : all degrees of arti- 
ficial polish, or form, should be considered as blemishes, 
except in articles of ornament. The size should be suit- 
ed, as nearly as possible, to that of the purchaser's cabi- 
net. It will be found of advantage to the student, to en- 
deavor to fill up her series of families, or genera, before 
she is anxious about particular species ; unless she would 



188 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

confine her collection to some one tribe, which, after she 
has obtained a httle general information, is a good prac- 
tice. A collection is best kept in small trays, in shallow 
drawers of equal depth ; and such specimens as are too 
large for the drawers, will form a handsome article of 
furniture, arranged in a glass case. Our reason for rec- 
ommending drawers of an equal depth, is, that a syste- 
matic arrangement may be followed, which would add 
greatly to the value of any collection, and would be en- 
tirely destroyed, by having regard to every variation of 
size. No other care will be requisite, than to exclude 
the dust, or occasionally wash the specimens tenderly, 
with soap and water."* 

Entomology is an interesting branch of natural histo- 
ry. There is a difficulty, in the pursuit of this, which does 
not exist in the study of shells ; since, in the latter case, 
in obtaining specimens, we do not, usually, need to de- 
stroy animal hfe; the inhabitant of the shell being, in most 
cases, decayed, before its covering passes into our hands. 
It is the tenement, and not the organized being, which is 
the usual object of our classification. But in the exam- 
ination of insects, we cannot but experience uneasiness, 
at the idea of causing pain, even to a poor beetle ; and 
then the giddy butterfly, so joyous and sportive, — we can- 
not but feel some regret, to abridge its ephemeral exis- 
tence, and to know that its beauty has accelerated its 
doom, — emblem, but too apt, of many an unfortunate of 
our own sex ! And yet, waiving the consideration of 
sufl^ering, which may be, in a degree, imaginary, since 
there are various ways in which insects can be deprived 
of life, without pain, there is much to interest the mind, 
in the study of entomology ; much to awaken new admi- 
ration for the works of Nature, and to show forth the wis- 
dom of its Author. The least insect, considered as the 
workmanship of God, becomes to us a curious manifesta- 
tion of his skill. We find insects, like all other organized 
beings, arranged, by Nature, into genera : as the butter- 
fly, papilio ; the bee, apis ; the fly, musca, &c. Orders 
and classes are a less natural division, formed by men of 

♦Young Lady's Book. 



ZOOLOGY. 189 

science, for the purpose of more convenient reference and 
arrangement. 

The study of zoology will naturally lead us to think 
more of the structure of our own bodies ; and, however 
startling the idea may be, I cannot but consider some 
knowledge of human anatomy as desirable for females. 
I may here be permitted to allude to the utility of this 
knowledge, as exemplified in the case of my own revered 
mother. 

She began, when young, to pay attention to the anato- 
my of such animals as are used for food, dissecting joints 
of meat, fowls, &c., with particular attention to the form 
and position of the different bones. Thus she soon be- 
came an adept at carving, (an art which every mistress 
of a family ought to understand,) and, guided by analogy, 
formed a tolerably correct idea of the human skeleton. 

She often found this knowledge of great use. In more 
than one case, where accidents, in her own family, or her 
immediate neighborhood, had caused dislocation of joints, 
and immediate surgical aid could not be obtained, she 
replaced bones, and secured them by proper bandages. 

The young female may shrink from the thought of per- 
forming such offices ; but, in the varied scenes of life, 
many efforts may be required, of skill, fortitude, and 
strength of nerves, from which a sickly sensibihty would 
revolt. But which is the truly good, and interesting 
neighbor, daughter, wife, or mother ? — she who can com- 
mand her own feelings sufficiently, to perform painful 
offices, for the relief of those she loves, and even for 
the sake of common humanity ; or she, who, like Niobe,* 
dissolved in sentimental grief, commiserates, without be- 
ing able to relieve ? Youth and beauty may now gain a 
short-lived admiration ; but the time soon comes, when 
a female is loved, respected, and honored, only as she 
is good, wise, and useful. 

* A daughter of an ancient king of Lydia, who saw her seven sons 
and six daughters destroyed before her face, and was so stupified by 
the suddenness of her misfortune, that she is said to have turned into 
stone ; by which is probably meant, only, that she became immova- 
ble, as a stone. 



190 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Botany. 

The study of botany is highly calculated to interest 
the imagination, to enlarge the mind, and discipline its 
reasoning powers. This idea, and the conviction that no 
popular work existed, which could lead the pupil, step by 
step, from the simple elements, to the general principles, 
of the science, gave rise to the 'Familiar Lectures on 
Botany.' Since the publication of that volume, the au- 
thor has had the satisfaction of knowing, that the science, 
of which it treats, has been extensively introduced into 
female seminaries and schools, from the highest to the 
lowest. The mistaken idea, that botany was a dry and 
difficult study, had deterred most females from attempt- 
ing to gain any scientific knowledge of the vegetable king- 
dom. So far, however, is this from being the case, that 
there is no study, in which the leading principles of ar- 
rangement can be more readily comprehended and re- 
membered. Scientific names may not be so easily re- 
tained in the memory ; but it is the system, and not the 
names, which is of the most importance. It is, however, 
far less diflicult to remember technical terms, than is often 
imagined ; especially, when these are referred to their 
primitives, and their original signification is understood. 

In following the course laid down in the botanical work, 
to which I have alluded, the student is first introduced 
to the analytical part of botany ; she is presented with 
flowers of the first ten classes, and, having learned to dis- 
tinguish them, scientifically, is then introduced to those 
which are more complex in their relations, until the rep- 
resentatives of the twenty-one classes of vegetables are 
all brought under review. 

After having learned to assign plants to their appropri- 
ate classes, the student is taught the relations of each part 
of a vegetable to the whole organized being, the external 
varieties of roots, stems, leaves, corollas, &c., with their 
physiological uses. After this, are introduced the vari- 
ous systems which have, at difl^erent times, been promul- 
gated, by men of science, with the rules of classification 
and arrangement, which have been deduced from the na- 



MINERALOGY AND GEOLOGY. 191 

ture of the mind, and of the objects to be classed. The 
natural families of plants, and the relations of these fami- 
lies, are extensively considered ; as also the natural his- 
tory of individual plants. 

Lastly, is given a general view of the vegetable world, 
as respects geographical situation, and their successive 
changes, during the year, their habits, food, diseases, &c., 
with observations upon the relations which the vegetable 
world bears to the other kingdoms of Nature. 

For a sketch of the history of botanical science, I must 
refer you to some of the last lectures in the work, whose 
outlines I have now laid before you. Before leaving this 
subject, I must again repeat, what has so often been urg- 
ed upon you, that botany is a practical science ; and that, 
during the season of flowers, you should diligently collect 
specimens of every new species that appears.* 



CHAPTER XXI. 

MINERALOGY AND GEOLOGY. 

** Lo ! Vanity, with dazzling gems adorned. 
Flaunts proudly by ; 
While Science pores upon a specimen. 
Rough from the bosom of its native mine." 

The science of mineralogy has not yet received, from 
our sex, that attention, which it deserves, or which it is 
undoubtedly destined to command. We do not expect, 
nor wish, to see you devoting that time, to this study, 
which may be needed for other pursuits ; but a very little 

* Botany, it will be seen, is briefly treated of in this work. This is 
owing to the peculiar nature of the science, which, in order to be un- 
derstood, should be illustrated, either by drawings, or natural flowers. 
A mere outline of botany can be of little use, to those who are unac- 
quainted with the science : to those who have a practical knowledge 
of it, compendiums are neither very interesting, nor useful. Like the 
objects of the study, botany needs to be seen as a whole, in order to 
show its beauty and utility. Those who only look at the Greek names 
of classes and orders, not unfrequently acquire a prejudice against the 
science, which one judicious lecture, from a practical botanist, might 
remove. 



192 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

attention to the subject, especially after you have become 
acquainted with chemistry, will enable you to compre- 
hend the general features of the science, and will render 
cabinets of minerals something more to you, than collec- 
tions of glittering stones. Let us suppose (a very com- 
mon case) a coterie of fine ladies visiting a scientific 
collection, and, while the learned professor or proprietor 
is pohtely explaining to them the properties and peculiar- 
ities of the substances, or the mode of arrangement which 
he has adopted, they are evidently paying no attention to 
his discourse, but exclaiming to each other, " How siceet 
this is !^^ '•^ hoiD splendid V^ " lo/iaf beautiful ornaments 
that ivould make .'" or, perhaps, appearing wholly indif- 
ferent, as to the objects which they had, professedly, 
come to examine. Now, all that I plead for is, that you 
may have enough of science, to lead you to wish for 
more ; enough, to render you interesting companions to 
men of science. They will not generally expect more 
of you, than that you should be attentive listeners, or be 
able to suggest subjects for their explanation. Yet, should 
you chance to become sufficiently acquainted with any 
branch of science, to enable you to impart information, 
I know of no law, either of morality or propriety, which 
would be violated, by your modestly communicating that 
knowledge to others ; neither do I think any man, of 
real science, would be displeased, to find a lady capable 
of supporting conversation on scientific subjects. 

I shall now, as briefly as possible, give you some of 
the leading traits, in the science of mineralogy and ge- 
ology. 

Minerals are unorganized bodies, possessing neither 
life, nor the power of voluntary motion. Mineralogy 
teaches their properties and relations, and the method of 
describing and arranging them ; it comprehends, not only 
the study of soHd bodies, such as earths and metals, but 
also, gases and liquids, — of all matter, that is not either 
animal or vegetable. 

Minerals are homogeneous^ (simple,) or heterogeneous , 
(compound.) Simple minerals are so called, not in 
reference to the elements which compose them, for, in 



MINERALOGY. 193 

this view, few are simple ; but as they appear to the eye 
to consist of one uniform mass. The simple minerals, 
only, are the subjects with which mineralogy is concern- 
ed. Thus limestone is simple in its structure, though, 
chemically considered, it consists of carbonic acid and lime. 

Compound minerals present to the eye, an aggregation 
of different substances ; as granite, which is composed 
of quartz, mica, and felspar. The compound minerals 
usually exist in large masses ; as rocks, and mountains : 
the study of these constitutes geology. Some knowledge 
of the simple minerals is necessary, before commencing 
geological studies. " The distinctions, which exist be- 
tween different rocks, must depend on the nature of the 
simple minerals, which enter into their composition, or 
on the mode of aggregation ; and the diversity of aspect, 
exhibited by compound minerals, even when bearing the 
same name, is sometimes so great, as to render it neces- 
sary, very critically to examine the simple minerals, of 
which they are composed."* 

We perceive, then, the intimate relation between mine- 
ralogy and geology. Mineralogy has also a very intimate 
connection with chemistry. A mineralogist may exam- 
ine all the external characters of a mineral, hardness, col- 
or, fracture, lustre, specific gravity, &c., and, according 
to circumstances, give it a name and place in his classifi- 
cation ; but, in order to know its constituent elements, 
its degree of fusibility, the manner in which it is affected 
by acids and other substances, chemistry must afibrd its 
aid. Berzelius, a celebrated Swedish mineralogist, re- 
marks, that each science, in order to be perfect, should 
contain, within itself, all that is necessary to its full devel- 
opement ; and yet, so far is this from being the case, that, 
at the present day, there is a connection, more or less in- 
timate, between all the branches of human knowledge, so 
that they may be considered as forming one universal 
science, the knowledge of any one branch throwing light 
upon all the others. 

One of the most curious and interesting branches of 
mineralogy is, the study of crystals, or, as it is termed, 

*Cleaveland's Mineralogy. 

17 XVIII. 



194 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

crystallography. The very singular and mysterious agen- 
cy, which operates in the atoms of different substances, 
producing, in each, its determinate form, as of cube, 
prism, rhomboid, &c., is no less wonderful, than the phe- 
nomenon of the vhal principle in organized beings. 

The mode of obtaining crystals of alum, blue vitriol, 
&c., for baskets, and other ornamental work, is familiar 
to many ladies. They know, that the mineral must first 
be dissolved in water, and the solution slowly evaporated ; 
that the particles of alum, or other substance, separating 
from the water, will unite, and form little crystals, which 
float on the surface, until their weight, increased by the 
accretion of new particles, causes them to fall through the 
liquid. 

Alum (sulphate of alumine and potash) forms crystals 
of eight sides, or octohedrons. 

Blue vitriol (sulphate of copper) forms prismatic crys- 
tals of four, six, or more, sides. 

Common salt (chloride of sodium) crystallizes in cubes. 
The crystalHzation may be disturbed, so as not to pre- 
sent the primitive form of the crystals ; but it is ascer- 
tained, that every mineral has a tendency to its peculiar 
form of crystallization. The ultimate atom of the mineral 
is supposed to be of the same figure as the primitive form 
of its crystal. 

The term crystal is from the Greek K.^va-raWog, krus^ 
tallos, which signifies ice. The ancients believed, that 
crystallized quartz, or rock crystal, was water, congealed 
by extreme cold. Mineralogists were for some time di- 
vided, as to the proper methods of classmg the substan- 
ces, which were objects of their investigation. While 
some contended, that the species of minerals should be 
formed wholly upon their external characters, others as 
strongly insisted upon an arrangement, founded wholly on 
chemical principles, or the constituent elements of the 
minerals. The wiser course has, of late, been allowed, 
of permitting mineralogy to receive the light which chem- 
istry is able to throw upon it, without relinquishing any 
advantage which it may otherwise possess. 

In arranging a cabinet of minerals, it is necessary to 



MINERALOGY. 195 

fix on some method of classification, as a guide.* Cleave- 
land makes four classes of minerals. 

1. Substances not metallic^ composed entirely ^ or in 
part, of an acid. This class he divides into four orders ; 
these he divides into genera, and these again into species. 

2. Earthy Compounds, or Stones. 

3. Combustibles. 

4. Ores. 

If you have but few substances at first, and commence 
by arranging these scientifically, your interest in the sub- 
ject will increase, and your collection will, no doubt, re- 
ceive additions, from various quarters. Every walk, and 
every journey, may present you with something for your 
cabinet ; and a new interest will thus, to you, be given to 
the face of Nature. I should here observe, that you must 
not expect to be able, without assistance, to ascertain the 
name of a mineral, as easily as you can find, by botani- 
cal analysis, the name of a plant. In mineralogy, you 
must at first depend, chiefly, on the opinions of those who 
have a practical knowledge of the science ; that is, you 
will need to have your specimens labelled by a practical 
mineralogist, except in the case of such common substan- 
ces, as you already know by their popular names. After 
having seen and handled a mineral, and placed it in its 
proper situation, in your cabinet, you will seldom forget 
its appearance and name ; you will, by attention, acquire 
a facility, in distinguishing specimens ; and names, which 
at first seemed hard, and difficult to be remembered, will 
become as familiar, as the most common words. 

We will suppose you have a specimen of the anthra- 
cite coal, called Lehigh, Schuylkill, &c., according to 
the locaHty whence it is obtained. You wish to know 
where to place this mineral, in your collection, and to 
ascertain its character. In the first place, you must con- 
sider, in which class it is placed. The third class (in 
Cleaveland's work) contains combustibles ; this substance, 
being a combustible, you will perceive must be in the 

* Cleaveland's Mineralogy is, perhaps, more generally followed, 
than any other, in this country. Emmons's is a less expensive work, 
and clear and concise. 



196 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

third class of minerals ; where you will find the species, 
hydrogen gas, sulphur, bitumen, amber, and diamond, 
which burns brilliantly in oxygen gas ; and next to dia- 
mond, you find anthracite, which is the sixth species in 
the class. You are then directed to the page which con- 
tains a minute description of the substance in question, 
with its varieties, locahties, and uses. 

In this way, you may proceed with any other mineral, 
whose common name is known to you ; but, without much 
practical knowledge, you will not acquire sufficient accu- 
racy, in chemical analyses, or, in ascertaining the speci- 
fic gravity, and some other external characters, of miner- 
als, to be able to learn, by your own investigations, the 
names of unknown minerals. 

Geology. 

To females, geology is chiefly important, from its in- 
fluence in enlarging their sphere of thought, rendering 
them more interesting, as companions to men of science, 
and better capable of instructing the young. Especially, 
does geology afford important aid to religion, by confirm- 
ing the truth of revelation. Infidels are confounded, by 
the undeniable truth, that, as the structure of the earth is 
investigated, and the secrets of its interior brought to 
light, the strictest coincidence is observed, between them 
and the facts recorded in Scripture. " I believe," says 
Professor Silliman, " the period is not distant, when ge- 
ology will be admitted into the train of her elder sister, 
astronomy, and that both" ''will be eventually hailed, as 
friends and aUies of revealed rehgion." 

The physical history of a deluge is every where in- 
scribed upon the surface of the earth ; upon its chasms 
and cliffs, its valleys and mountains. For a knowledge 
of the moral cause of these convulsions, we must look to 
the Scriptures ; we there find, that God, seeing " that 
the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that 
every imagination of the thoughts of his heart, was only 
evil continually," and that "the earth also was filled with 
violence," resolved to destroy man by a flood of waters. 
We find that "the waters prevailed upon the earth an 



GEOLOGY. 197 

hundred and fifty days," and that "all the high hills that 
were under the whole heaven, were covered." 

This one grand proof of the Scriptures, offered by 
geological science, is enough to entitle it to the attention 
of the Christian ; for it furnishes sensible demonstration, 
broad and stable as the earth, of the truth of that Book, 
which traces man, from his creation and first planting upon 
this globe, and carries him into eternity, raising the cur- 
tain between him and the invisible world ; of that Book, 
without which we should have no knowledge, but that af- 
forded by the dim and uncertain light of Nature, that our 
souls are immortal, and that man dieth not like " the 
beasts that perish." Geology leads us to view the globe 
upon a great scale ; to meditate upon the bold and roman- 
tic scenes of Nature ; to survey mountains and valleys, as 
sunk or raised by great convulsions of the earth ; to trace 
the hand of time, in shattering and crumbhng the hardest 
rocks ; to mark the little brook, and the majestic river, 
alike bearing in their course the sands thus formed, and 
depositing them upon their banks, or at their mouths, thus 
forming new land in the dominions of water ; and again, 
to see lands in their turn inundated, and overflowed. 

To one acquainted with geological facts, and interested 
in the science, even the barren rock, the bleak moun- 
tain, and the gloomy mine, are objects of attention. An- 
cient buildings, and venerable ruins, are interesting, both 
as triumphs of the art of man, and memorials of the de- 
cay of his labor ; but mountains and precipices are the 
workmanship of Almighty hands. Volcanoes and earth- 
quakes are overwhelming manifestations of His power. 
In beholding these phenomena, we confess, that " the 
Lord reigneth ; He is clothed with majesty." 

We shall not attempt to give a view of all the impor- 
tant principles of geology ; but present you with a very 
general sketch of the science, hoping it may not be unin- 
teresting to those, who already possess some knowledge 
of the subject, and may induce others to devote some at^ 
tention to this interesting branch of natural science. 

The elementary substances, which form the solid mat- 
17* 



198 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

terof the globe, are, 1, Earths ; 2, Metals ; 3, Inflam- 
mable Principles ; and 4, Alkalies. 

Silex, 



The Earths are, 



Jllumine, 

Lime, 

Magnesia. 



Ti i\T \ Iron. 

Principal Metals, { ^^ ' 

( Manganese. 

•f -n \ Sulphur. 

Inflammable Jtrinciples, < ^ ^ ' 

I Carbon. 

4 . ( Potash. 

Alkalies, So? 

' I Soda. 

These are the elementary substances, which enter into 
the composition of the principal masses of minerals, found 
upon the surface of the globe, and in the interior, as far 
as man has yet penetrated ; gold, silver, diamond, and 
other rare minerals, are found in smaller masses, and in 
veins, constituting but one part in twenty, of the solid 
portions of the globe. 

You will find it difficult, without some knowledge of 
chemistry, to understand, in what manner these elemen- 
tary substances combine with others, forming a great va- 
riety of minerals ; or rather, you may be surprised, that, 
when closely combined, they can be separated from the 
materials, with which they are united. The examination 
of the elementary bodies, earths, metals, inflammable 
principles, and alkalies, properly belongs to the depart- 
ment of chemistry ; and the study of simple minerals be- 
longs to the science of mineralogy. 

Simple Minerals. 

It is difficult to procure pure specimens of all the ele- 
mentary substances ; but the simple minerals are very 
common, and should be procured in the commencement 
of geological studies. The most important simple min- 
erals, which enter into the formation of rocks, are as fol- 
lows : 

Quartz, Talc, Limestone, 

Felspar, Chlorite, Gypsum, 

Mica, Hornblende, Slate, or Argillite. 



GEOLOGY. 199 

These minerals are termed the alphabet of geology ; 
and you could as well learn to read words, without a 
knowledge of the letters which form them, as to distin- 
guish the different rocks, without a knowledge of the sim- 
ple minerals, of which they are composed. 

In order to know minerals, specimens must be exam- 
ined, and carefully compared with descriptions ; so that 
you can, without any difficulty, distinguish a piece of 
quartz, or mica, or any of the other simple minerals, and 
can also recognise them, when you find them in a state 
of combination with others. This, then, will be the first 
stage in your geological study, — to know the elementary 
principles, and the simple minerals ; and to procure spec- 
imens of the latter, will be your first step towards col- 
lecting a geological cabinet. You will, of course, under- 
stand, that each specimen is to be labelled, and arranged 
in the order in which these have been described. 

We will now explain to you, how the simple minerals, 
just examined, are combined, to form the compounds 
which constitute rocks and mountains. You must, how- 
ever, recollect, that, in many cases, these simple minerals 
themselves are found in large masses ; rocks, and even 
mountains, of quartz, are known to exist ; limestone, un- 
der various forms, often that of pure carbonate, is said to 
constitute about one eighth of the knowri substance of the 
earth. Slate, or argillite, in nearly a simple state, forms 
rocks and mountains ; but there are compound rocks to 
be considered, which, in the structure of the earth, are 
of far greater importance than the simple minerals. 

Compound Rochs. 

In the rock called granite^ there are three distinct sub- 
stances, quartz, mica, and felspar. The quartz is usual- 
ly white, and has a crystalline appearance ; it seems to 
consist of irregular grains, or, according to the geological 
term, it is granular.* The mica is distinguished by its 
shining scales, which )^ou can easily divide by the point 
of a penknife. The felspar seems to consist of finer 

• This is said to have given rise to the name, Granite. 



200 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

particles than the quartz, and resembles the rough edge 
of porcelain ware. 

You must not, however, expect to find exactly the 
same appearances, in every specimen of granite. Some- 
times, the quartz is gray, or smoky ; the mica varying in 
color, through various gradations, from a silvery white 
to black ; and the felspar is often of a snowy whiteness. 
Granite also varies in its constituent parts. We some- 
times find talc, in the place of mica, forming talcose- 
granite ; chlorite^ forming chloritic granite ; and horn- 
blende, forming sienite,* 

The name gneiss was given, by German miners, to 
a rock that resembles granite, in being composed of the 
same materials. It has, however, less felspar and quartz, 
and these are in grains finer and less distinct than in gran- 
ite, and the mica is often arranged in thin leaves,! or lay- 
ers. The perfect gneiss rocks may be split in the direc- 
tion of the leaves of mica. 

Although, between a perfect specimen of gneiss and 
one of granite, we might perceive a marked difference, 
yet, when the granite appears in fine grains, with more of 
mica and less of felspar, it passes into gneiss ; and it is by 
no means easy to ascertain the exact point, where the one 
passes into the other. 

JWica Slate is composed chiefly of quartz and mica, 
the latter being most abundant, and often reflecting the 
rays of light with much brilliancy. This rock is more 
slaty than gneiss : the layers of mica are sometimes con- 
torted, or bent out of a straight course. • Mica slate some- 
times passes into gneiss and granite, though, in its perfect 
state, its character may be easily recognised. 

The three rocks, granite, gneiss, and mica slate, are 
composed of similar ingredients, but in different propor- 
tions, and differently arranged ; they form a great portion 
of the principal mountain ranges upon the face of the globe. 

Geology exhibits the structure of the globe, and the 

* So named from Syene, in Egypt, where this rock was anciently 
used for monuments. 

t This kind of structure is called foliated, from the Latin word fo- 
lium, a leaf. 



GEOLOGY. 201 

materials of which it is composed, as far as they have 
been revealed to human observation. It is supposed, by 
most geologists, that the materials of the earth were once 
in a fluid state, and that the heaviest minerals took the 
lowest place. It appears evident, that the earth very 
gradually became fitted for the habitation of men and ani- 
mals. It is supposed, by many geologists, that the six 
days of the Creation, spoken of in the first of Genesis, 
were six periods of time, of a length which must have 
comprehended many ages ; and that the day, spoken of in 
Scripture, was neither a period of twenty-four hours, or 
from sunrise to sunset, is manifest, not only from geolo- 
gical observation, but from the language of the Bible. 
After enumerating the various days, or periods, of the cre- 
ation, the sacred historian, speaking of them all under one 
general head, says, " In the day in which God made the 
world," &c. It is also said, in Scripture, that "with 
the Lord a thousand years are as one day, and one day 
as a thousand years." 

Without attempting to go minutely Into the subject of 
the earth's formation, as explained and taught by modern 
geology, I shall merely notice a few of its most prominent 
facts. 

Primitive Rochs. 

It is found to be a fact, that there is a class of rocks, 
the materials of which are heavier and more compact than 
any other, and which never contain any remains of animals 
or vegetables ; they evidently appear to have lain below 
all the rock formations, which have been discovered. 
These are called primitive rocks ; being, as it is suppos- 
ed, the first formed. They are granite, gneiss, mica slate, 
and a few others. 

A long period must have been required, to bring the 
materials of these primitive rocks into the compact and 
hardened state in which we now find them ; for, although 
the Deity could, in an instant, have changed the most 
subtile gases into rocks and stones, we have no reason to 
believe, that he did not operate by second causes, as 
much in the formation of the world, as he has since done. 



202 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Chemical and mechanical agencies, undoubtedly, were 
brought into action, to produce the intended effects. The 
dry land at length appeared, the waters being gathered 
together into oceans, seas, lakes, and rivers. 

After the first crust was formed around the earth, it is 
supposed, that some great convulsion in the interior, either 
by means of volcanic fires, or the sudden percussion of 
internal gases, producing earthquakes, burst asunder this 
outer coat, and shattered into fragments, or broke into 
larger masses, the rocks, of which it was composed. 

At the breaking up of the rocky pavement of the globe, 
and the crumbling of primitive rocks, of which this pave- 
ment was composed, a new formation was made of the 
fragments of the other rocks, united together by a kind of 
cement. This induces the opinion, that volcanic fires 
were agents in producing the great commotion which tore 
up the foundations of the earth. Fire would, of course, 
melt or fuse them, to a degree sufiicient to form the cement; 
for instance, where granite was thrown by the side of lime- 
stone, the silex of the one, in contact with the alkali of the 
other, would form a substance hke glass, which, you know, 
is produced by the melting of sand and alkali together. 

Transition RocJcs. 

The second class of rocks are called transition rocks, 
because they are supposed to have been formed at the 
changing, or transition, of the world, from an uninhabited 
to a habitable state. 

The rocks belonging to this class are, slate, sandstone, 
and limestone. 

In the transition formation, we find the fossil remains 
of plants and animals ; the plants are all of that kind call- 
ed, in botany, stiped ; that is, having no real stem, but a 
frond,* like the ferns and palms. These plants differ, in 
several particulars, from those which have the true stem, 
or caulis, and which are, therefore, called cauline plants. 
The seeds of stiped plants never have two cotyledons, or 
lobes. f The stalks grow from the centre, outwardly, and 

* A green or leafy branch, or bough, 
t Like the bean. 



GEOLOGY. 203 

are therefore called endogenous,* while the stems of cau- 
line plants grow on the outside, and are called exogenous. 
The fossil animals, found in transition rocks, are of 
races now extinct. At this second period of the world, 
a strange and appalling state of things existed ; lizard- 
shaped animals, extending to monstrous dimensions ; the 
mastodon, and megatherium, of enormous bulk ; and vari- 
ous other huge and singular animals, had possession of the 
earth, and rolled their vast magnitudes over ferns and 
palms, of a size corresponding to their own. 

Secondary Rocks. 

In the mean time, a new set of rocks was gradually 
formed, from the ruins of both primitive and transition ; 
these were called secondary rocks. Other plants and an- 
imals were at this period created. 

At length, the earth being made habhable, man is 
formed ; after a series of ages, the fountains of the deep 
are broken up ; the monsters which stalked over the earth, 
or crawled through its fens and marshes, are suddenly 
overwhelmed by the Deluge, which was sent to destroy 
the human monsters who did '' evil in the sight of God." 
Antediluvian remains of animals are found in Siberia, In- 
dia, England, France, and Germany, and in various parts 
of America. 

In considering the ruins of the Deluge, we must not fall 
into the error, which has been too common, of considering 
all fossils, shells, and other organic remains, found imbed- 
ded in rocks, as marks of that event. It appears proba- 
ble, from observations made upon the rock strata, that 
previous to this, the earth had undergone many changes ; 
fire and water had been active in decomposing and crys- 
tallizing the mineral substances on the globe, and many 
animals and plants had become petrified, and fixed in their 
rocky beds. 

The process of petrifaction consists in the gradual de- 
cay of the original substance of an organized being, while 

* The two words, endogenous and exogenous, are derived from the 
Greek : the first signifies to grow internally, the other to grow exter- 
nally. 



204 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the place of the particles, which pass off in a gaseous, or 
other form, is supplied by stony particles, until the whole 
mass is thus changed. Some waters possess the power 
of petrifaction, in a high degree. Shells are often found 
petrified ; they sometimes occur in large masses, forming 
rocks, termed shell-limestone. 

It is not within the scope of this work, to enter largely 
into geological investigations. However interesting the 
theme, we must hasten to close our remarks on Geology, 
and, with this, our observations upon natural science in 
general. 

We have spoken of primitive, transition, and seconda- 
ry rocks ; of the great primitive ocean, which, as is sup- 
posed, once covered the face of the whole earth, while it 
was yet *' without form, and void." We have remarked 
upon the prevalent opinion of the gradual formation of the 
different classes of rocks, the changes which the earth must 
have undergone, previous to the existence of animals or 
vegetables ; and that great and sudden catastrophe, which, 
with the exception of Noah, and those who were with him, 
buried, in one vast watery grave, the whole race of or- 
ganized beings, including man, and beast, and the vegeta- 
ble tribes. 

Every where, upon and beneath the surface of the earth, 
are to be found traces of a Deluge. Masses of clay, 
sand, and shells, mingled with bones and skeletons of 
huge animals, as well as those of a less size, can be ac- 
counted for, on no other supposition, than that they were 
thus indiscriminately thrown together by the rushing of 
mighty waters. Caverns are discovered, whose floors are 
covered with the bones of hyenas, wolves, bears, and other 
beasts of prey, who seem to have rushed together into 
these retreats, to avoid the impending destruction. From 
the appearances of the gnawed fragments of bones, it 
would seem, that they fell upon and devoured each other. 
These remains are covered by a light mud, evidently de- 
posited over them, when the waters of the flood subsided. 

The period before the flood is termed antediluvian, 
(from the Latin ante^ before, and diluvium^ deluge :) 
thus, those animals, whose remains are found only in the 



GEOLOGY. 205 

oldest rocks, are called antediluvian relics. The ruins of 
the flood, the land which was then formed, and all ap- 
pearances, which seem the result of that event, are call- 
ed diluvial. The various geological changes upon and 
beneath the surface of the earth, which have taken place 
since the flood, are called post-diluvial. The deposits 
of soil, or other changes eftected by water, are called by 
the more general term, alluvial. 

Besides the three regular classes of rocks, and the 
various kinds of alluvions, there is another formation, 
consisting of what are called basaltic, or superincumbent 
rocks, or rocks lying over the other rocks, in strata not 
conformable to them. They are supposed, by most ge- 
ologists, to be of volcanic origin. The Giant's Cause- 
way and Fingal's Cave, in Ireland, and the Palisadoes, on 
the Hudson river, are composed of basaltic, or trap rocks. 
There are also other remains of volcanoes, as lava of va- 
rious kinds, either dark colored and almost homogeneous, 
or of cemented grains, or whitish lava, consisting chiefly 
of melted felspar, and called trachyte. 

Tertiary Formation. 

The various layers of clay, sand, and marl, which are 
supposed to have been formed before the Deluge, have 
received the name of Tertiary formation. The word 
tertiary signifying three, is given in consequence of this 
lying over the secondary formation. 

This formation, which is very extensive in France and 
England, has, in those countries, received much attention. 
" The most remarkable discovery," says Bakewell, ''that 
has been made, respecting the tertiary deposits, is, that 
many of them contain the remains of mammiferous* quad- 
rupeds, as perfect in their organization, as any of the ex- 
isting species of land quadrupeds, but most of them be- 
longing to genera, or species, that are now extinct. The 
tertiary strata are further remarkable, for presenting the 
frequent alternation of beds, containing the remains of ma- 
rine animals, with other beds, that contain the bones of 
land animals, or fresh water shells. It appears, that ter- 

* Such animals as nourish their young with milk. 

18 xviii. 



206 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

tiary strata were chiefly formed in detached inland seas, 
or lakes. 

When commencing the study of geology, a pupil may 
very naturally imagine that to be a trifling pursuit, which 
would direct the attention to a mere stone, such as may 
at any time be seen in the street ; and he may be ready to 
say, " It seems a very little thing, to know that this piece 
of a rock is granite, and that granite is composed of mica, 
quartz, and felspar." But it is always best to suspend 
our decisions, till we have advanced beyond the mere ele- 
ments of a study. Geology presents a noble field for re- 
search ; it carries the mind from the consideration of rocks 
and mountains, to the period of their creation, and to 
Him who created them. We are led to regard them as 
silent and venerable historians, which, in a language that 
admits of no dispute, indicate the changes that the globe 
has undergone, since that period, when it "was without 
form, and void." 

Facts established by Geology. 

According to the discoveries of geologists, it appears, 
First, that the whole surface of the earth was once cov- 
ered by a void and formless deep. Chemistry proves that 
darkness and light, gases, hquids, and sohds, mingled in 
one universal chaos, might, according to the laws of Na- 
ture, have disengaged themselves, and formed a new ar- 
rangement. 

Secondly, it appears, from geology, that the waters 
were gathered into their respective places, and solids were 
separated from liquids ; and that gases, released from their 
unnatural union, rose by their specific levity, into higher 
regions. 

Thirdly, we learn, from geology, that, after the earth 
had become fitted for the support of vegetation, plants 
were created, their remains being found in older rocks 
than those of animals. 

Fourthly, we learn, from geology, that, after plants were 
created, the " waters brought forth abundantly," the re- 
mains of marine and fresh water animals being found in 
older rocks than those of land animals. 



GEOLOGY. 207 

Fifthly^ we find, by geology, that, at this period, land 
animals were created, and that they '' muUiphed greatly 
upon the earth." 

Sixthly^ we learn from geology, that, after a long pe- 
riod of time had elapsed, from the creation of plants and 
animals, the whole earth was again covered with water, 
which swallowed up vast multitudes of animals and vege- 
tables, whose remains are daily becoming more and more 
revealed to human observation. We know, too, that 
many species, and even genera, of animals, which existed 
previous to that catastrophe, are now extinct. We learn, 
by geology, from the fact of beds of shells being found 
upon the highest ground, at great distances from the sea, 
that the " waters covered the tops of the highest moun- 
tains ;" and, from various other circumstances, it appears 
that they gradually subsided. Now, compare these facts, 
as revealed by geology, with the events recorded in Scrip- 
ture, between the first and tenth chapters of Genesis, and 
you will find an entire corroboration of what is there re- 
corded. 

Among all the diluvial and antediluvlal relics, no human 
bones have yet been discovered. This, however, is a 
fact which ought not to excite surprise, when we consid- 
er how httle is known of the fossil, and other ancient re- 
mains of Asia, w^hich was the birthplace of the human 
race. At the period of the Deluge, mankind had not 
probably extended far over the earth. At the approach of 
this event, they would naturally collect in groups for mu- 
tual assistance and protection, and in this condition, pro- 
bably, met their fate. Seas may now cover their remains ; 
or, it may rest for future geologists to discover, and bring 
forth, the bones of those wretched and miserable beings 
who met with this signal retribution. 

Organic Remains. 

From what has been observed, you will readily see the 
vast importance of the discoveries of geologists and' anat- 
omists respecting organic remains ; especially, when taken 
in connection with estabhshed facts, relative to the com- 
parative ages of the different strata, or layers of rocks. If 



208 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

a certain tribe of plants, or animals, are found embedded 
in a certain rock formation, while the rocks of more re- 
cent origin are never found to contain such remains, we 
must believe, they were of more ancient date, than the 
species found in newer rocks. 

"If it had been predicted, a century ago, that a vol- 
ume would be discovered, containing the natural history 
of the earliest inhabitants of the globe, which flourished 
and perished before the creation of man, with distinct im- 
pressions of the forms of animals, no longer existing on 
earth, — what curiosity would have been excited, to see 
this wonderful volume ! how anxiously would philosophers 
have waited for the discovery ! But this volume is now 
discovered ; it is the volume of Nature, rich with the 
spoils of primeval ages, unfolded to the view of the at- 
tentive observer, in the strata that compose the crust of 
the globe."* 

This interesting branch of natural history has hitherto 
been little introduced into female schools. The reason of 
this is, undoubtedly, the vi^'ant of popular elementary trea- 
tises on the subject. ' As this want shall be supplied, it is 
to be hoped that a study, which so powerfully confirms 
the truth of Revelation, and so evidently tends to elevate 
and enlarge the mind, w^ill no longer be considered unnec- 
essary or unimportant. All who study Nature must, with 
the poet Montgomery, feel, that 

*' There is a voiceless eloquence on earth, 
Telling of Him, who gave her wonders birth ;" 

And all such will be ready to exclaim with him, 

** And long may I remain the adoring child 
Of Nature's majesty, sublime, or wild ; 
Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea, 
All take their terrors and their charms from Thee. 
From Thee, whose hidden, but supreme, control 
Moves through the world, a Universal Soul." 

* Bakewell. 



MATHEMATICS. 209 



CHAPTER XXII. 

MATHEMATICS. ARITHMETIC. ALGEBRA. GEOMETRY. 

In commencing my remarks on the study of mathemat- 
ics, as a branch of female education, I shall introduce a 
passage from Hannah More's ' Strictures,' which will 
show the state of the sex, as to intellectual improvement, 
at the beginning of the present century, with her opinion, 
as to the proper means, by which the existing evils might 
be remedied. " Women," says Mrs. More, '' are httle 
accustomed to close reasoning, on any subject ; still less, 
do they inure their minds to consider particular parts of 
a subject : they are not habituated to turn a truth round, 
and view it in all its varied aspects and positions ; and 
this is one cause of the too great confidence they are dis- 
posed to place in their own opinions. Though their im- 
agination is already too lively, and their judgement natu- 
rally incorrect ; in educating them, we go on to stimulate 
the imagination, while we neglect the regulation of the 
judgement. They already want ballast ; and we make 
their education consist in continually crowding more sail 
than they can carry. Their intellectual pov/ers being so 
little strengthened by exercise, makes every little business 
appear a hardship to them ; w^hereas serious study would 
be useful, were it only that it leads the mind to the habit 
of conquering difficulties." 

In another part of her work, Mrs. More says, " The 
chief end, to be proposed in cultivating the understanding 
of women, is to qualify them for the practical purposes of 
life. The great use of study, with them, is, to regulate 
their minds, and render them capable of fulfilling the du- 
ties of life. To xooman^ therefore^ I would recommend a 
predominance of sober studies, those which will teach her 
to elicit truth ; will give precision to her ideas ; will make 
an exact mind; which, instead of stimulating her sensibil- 
ity, will chasten it ; which will give her definite notions ; 
18* 



210 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

will bring her imagination under dominion ; will lead her 
to think, to compare, to methodize. Economy is the 
exercise of a sound judgement, exerted in the compre- 
hensive outhne of order and arrangement. She, who has 
the best regulated mind, will, all other things being equal, 
have the best regulated family." 

It had not, probably, entered into the mind of the ex- 
cellent woman, whose judicious observations have just 
been quoted, that her sex, in thirty years from the time 
in which she advanced these ideas, would be admitted, by 
general consent, to share in those pursuits, which have 
the most undoubted tendency to produce the effects which 
she desired, — a tendency to sober the imagination, devel- 
ope the reasoning powers, and strengthen the understand- 
ing, so apt, in the female character, to be biased by preju- 
dice, or borne on the gossamer-wing of a lively fancy, 
into the regions of error and folly. Mrs. More recom- 
mended the reading of Watts, on the Mind, Butler's An- 
alogy, and other writings, of a grave and metaphysical 
character ; but she did not (if, indeed, she was aware of 
their superior importance, as aids to mental discipline) 
dare to speak of the higher branches of mathematics. 

Watts observes, that '' Mathematics have a strange in- 
fluence toward fixing the attention of the mind^ and giving 
a steadiness to a ivandering disposition^ hecause they deal 
much in hnes, figures, and numbers, which affect and 
please the sense and imagination." The same writer, in 
speaking of the tendency of the mind to '' narrow and loxo 
conceptions," remarks, that "this defect may be remedied, 
by beginning with the first principles in geometry, and pro- 
ceeding to the doctrine of quantities, which are infinite 
and innumerable. A little acquaintance with true phi- 
losophy, and mathematical learning, would soon teach the 
mind, that there are no limits, either to the extension of 
space, or the division of body, and would lead it to be- 
lieve, that there are bodies amazingly great or small, 
beyond their present imagination." The same writer 
further observes, "/^ is owing to the narrowness of out 
minds, that we are exposed to the same peril, in the mat- 
ters of human prudence and duty. In many things which 



MATHEMATICS. 211 

we do, we ought not only to consider the mere naked ac- 
tion itself, but the persons who act, the persons towards 
whom, the time when, the place where, the manner how, 
the end for which, the action is done, together with the 
effects that must or that may follow, and all other sur- 
rounding circumstances ; these things must necessarily be 
taken into view, in order to determine, whether the action, 
which is indifferent in itself, be either lawful or unlawful, 
good or evil, wise or foolish, decent or indecent, proper 
or improper." 

Females have been said, and not without reason, to be 
fluctuating in purpose, desultory in action, and unsettled 
in principle. Possessing vast power over the destinies 
of the world, by their influence over the other sex, they 
have often been the cause of contention and misery among 
nations, and of agitation and disquiet in the more hmited 
domestic sphere. Of how much importance, to the well- 
being of mankind is it, that this fickle, restless, yet power- 
ful, being should become consistent and reflecting, and 
learn to exercise her influence for the good of society ! 
And how shall this be done ? The question is answered 
by Watts, Locke, Slev\;art, and all other judicious writers 
on the power of education upon human character ; for all 
have united, in giving their testimony to mathematical 
studies, as one of the most important aids to mental 
discipline. 

But it may be said, that these writers did not intend to 
apply their remarks to female education ; that it was for 
the other sex for whom they wrote. Strange, indeed, if 
the nearer the mind of man resembles, in its organization, 
that of woman, the more he should be required to follow 
investigations calculated to fix the attention and strengthen 
reason, while, for woman herself, this should be consider- 
ed unnecessary and improper. 

Women are often reproached, for their limited vieics, 
their low and narrow conceptions. True it is, that their 
sphere of action tends to such results. The minute object 
towards which their attention is necessarily directed, the 
routine of their domestic duties and occupations, have 
a tendency to contract their minds. How shall this be 



212 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

remedied ? Let the direction of Watts, on this subject, 
be our answer. Ahhough, in his day, he could not have 
anticipated this apphcation of his remarks, yet, had the 
appeal, even then, been made to his judgement, in behalf 
of women, I am persuaded the justice of his character, 
and the benevolence of his heart, would have secured a 
verdict in their favor. 

Again, with respect to '' our conduct in matters of 
prudence and duty," as Watts expresses it, — " it is owing 
to the narrowness of our minds, that we are exposed to 
peril here." What human being more needs a sure guide, 
in matters of prudence and duty, than woman ? Caressed 
and flattered, and yet watched with jealousy and suspic- 
ion ; thrown off her guard by the most tender indulgence, 
while the slightest shadow of imprudence renders her hable 
to misconstruction and reproach ; — does she not need an 
unerring standard of rectitude, in her own bosom, a clear 
and acute sense of her own actual condition ; prudence 
to direct her in the path of duty, and fortitude to sustain 
her under various trials ^ The mode of discipline, by 
v/hich the human mind may be brought to a calm, ra- 
tional, and dignified state, is pointed out in the passage 
of Watts, to which we have referred. An enlarged and 
extended view of our various duties and relations towards 
ourselves, our friends, society, and especially towards our 
Maker, accompanied with virtuous principles and disci- 
plined minds, cannot fail to secure to us respectability and 
happiness. 

We are far from considering mathematics, as the only 
instrument of that mental discipline, which we feel to be 
so necessary for our sex ; every branch of education, 
which has a tendency to fix the attention, to impress 
truth upon the mind, and to produce the habit of reason- 
ing closely and consecutively, is of importance in this 
view. We have already spoken of the studies of gram- 
mar, languages, geography, and history, as auxiliaries in 
this great work. The studies of natural science, mental 
and moral philosophy, are all of great utility in the forma- 
tion of character ; but the study of mathematics has, by 
philosophers, been considered the most direct way of 



MATHEMATICS. 213 

controlling the imagination, perfecting reason and judge- 
rnen.t, and inducing a habit of method, and love of order. 

The term mathematics is derived from the Greek verb 
fAccQria}, matheOj to learn. This science treats of quantity, 
or whatever can be measured, as in geometry, or num- 
bered, as in arithmetic and algebra. Mathematics is 
divided into pure and mixed ; pure mathematics is the 
abstract consideration of quantity, without any reference 
to matter ; mixed mathematics treats of magnitude as 
subsisting in material bodies, which are subject to certain 
laws, a knowledge of which constitutes natural philos- 
ophy. Mathematics here becomes united to natural 
philosophy, and hence arises the term, mixed mathema- 
tics. The reasoning, in mathematics, is of that kind 
called demonstrative, or that which admits of positive 
proof. Thus, the truths, developed in the reasoning 
of the first proposition of Euclid, admit of no more dis- 
pute, than the axiom, that things equal to the same are 
equal to one another. The latter is self-evident, or ap- 
parent without any reasoning ; but the truth of the for- 
mer is not evident, without the intermediate steps used in 
the reasoning. 

Moral reasoning is of a different kind, and cannot be 
rendered thus positive. Dr. Paley asserts, that "virtue is 
the doing good, in obedience to the will of God, and /or 
the sake of everlasting happiness." Now, if he could 
have proved this, by a train of reasoning, founded upon 
a self-evident proposition, no one v/ould distrust the as- 
sertion ; yet many do dispute it, which shows that it is 
not proved to complete demonstration, for the human 
mind cannot dispute such evidence. Some moral truths 
do, however, seem to admit a proof, equal to demonstra- 
tion. Thus, the existence of God is demonstrated, from 
the existence of matter, which could not have created 
itself. Taking then, for an axiom, or first truth, what 
seems self-evident, we would say, that matter must have 
been made ; it camiot have made itself : therefore, since 
it does exist, it must have had a maker ; this maker, we 
call God. Yet an atheist might object to w^hat we call 
a self-evident truth ; he might say, we are not certain. 



214 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

that matter has not existed from eternity. He may, of 
course, object to our reasoning, if he does not consent to 
our premises, or the foundation of our arguments. Yet, 
demonstrative reasoning is not to render us imbeheving 
on moral subjects ; but the rather tends, by accustoming 
the mind to dehberate investigation, and careful compar- 
ison of proofs, to detect the true from the false, even in 
moral reasoning. 

Mathematics is peculiarly a science of comparisons ; 
these comparisons are always exact, and may be made 
manifest to the senses. When it is said there are fifty 
yards of riband in a piece, there is an exact and sensible 
comparison between the riband in the piece, and the length 
of the yard measure, fifty times repeated. 

A French writer* says, "is it not certain, that a young 
person, accustomed to the justness and accuracy of math- 
ematical demonstrations, habituated to exercise his intel- 
lect, in discovering the connection of ideas in a train of 
reasoning, in order to prove a truth ; is it not certain, that 
such a one will carry into the w^orld a penetrating and 
observing mind ? that he will pursue other studies with 
greater facility, when his judgement, and all his intellectual 
faculties, have been exercised and strengthened, by math- 
ematical investigations ? Many persons, who have not 
sufficiently reflected upon the manner in which our fac- 
ulties can be exercised to the greatest advantage, and 
upon the assistance w'hich the sciences mutually render 
to each other, say, that the mind can pursue any science, 
to which it gives attention ; that it is but lost time, to oc- 
cupy it with mathematics, instead of the profession which 
is to be the business of life. But has the mind always 
the capacity for the study of any kind of science ? Is 
it not necessary to form the judgement by preliminary 
studies ? And are not the mathematics the best means 
of accompHshing this, and the method of reasoning and 
investigation acquired in this science, a most important 
aid in all others ?" Suppose, of two young persons, of 
equal talents, and who have devoted equal time to study, 

* Delpierre du Tremblay, author of ' Lettres sur les Etude^ et sur 
leur Rapport Jivec L^ Entendement Humain.' 



ARITHMETIC AND ALGEBRA. 215 

that the one is a geometrician, and the other has given 
her time more to other branches of knowledge ; suppose 
these two commencing, together, some new science, as 
chemistry, or mental philosophy ; we shall soon perceive 
the great advantage, which the knowledge and practice of 
mathematical reasoning gives the one, over the other, in 
the mode of arranging facts, of developing truth, and per- 
forming such mental analyses, as are necessary to disen- 
tangle, and bring to light, the most complicated subjects. 
For the greatest discoveries which have enhghtened the 
world, we are indebted, chiefly, to those powerful minds, 
which have first strengthened and invigorated themselves 
at the fountains of mathematical knowledge, — Descartes, 
Malebranche, Galileo, Kepler, Bacon, Locke, Newton, 
and Fontenelle. Plato wrote over the entrance of his 
school, '' He, who has not studied the elements of geom- 
etry, cannot enter here.'* 

Arithmetic and Algebra. 

Arithmetic is the lowest, and most simple, branch of 
mathematics. The word is derived from the Greek, 
a-Qi&y^o?, arithmos, signifying number, and (astqs&j, metreo^ 
measure. It is the science of numbers. Arithmetical 
calculation signifies operations, performed by various 
modes of adding, subtractings multiplying^ or divid- 
ing. The word calculation (in French called calcul) 
is derived from a Latin word, signifying little stones, be- 
cause the ancients used such, instead of figures, in their 
arithmetical computations. All our numbers are ex- 
pressed by different arrangements of the cipher and the 
nine figures, called digits. These were learned from the 
Arabians, who are said to have derived their knowledge 
from countries still further east. The Greeks and Ro- 
mans used the letters of their alphabet to express numbers. 
Thus, instead of the Arabic character for 1, the Romans 
used the letter I ; for 2, they used II ; for 3, III : for 4, 
IV, &c. 

Of all the sciences, arithmetic is, perhaps, the most 
ancient, it having been taught by the Egyptians, six hun- 
dred years before Christ. It is said, they attempted to 



216 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

explain every thing by numbers, and even thought that an 
accurate knowledge of these would conduct man to the 
fountain of divinity, — to God himself. 

It is unnecessary to urge the importance of this study, 
as a branch of female education, since this is universally 
admitted ; but it cannot be unnecessary to recommend a 
more practical use of it, than is generally made. No young 
girl should be ignorant of the proper method of keeping an 
account, or of making out a bill. The practical object 
of arithmetic is, to teach you to do those things. It 
should also have a moral influence on the conduct, by 
teaching you to regulate your expenses according to your 
income. Many a man has been ruined, because his wife 
and daughters have not practised arithmetic ; and there 
are those, who, resorting to dishonest methods for pro- 
curing wealth, have dragged out, in a state's prison, a mis- 
erable existence, which, by economy in their family, might 
have been rendered virtuous and happy. Suppose that 
a man in business earns a thousand dollars a year ; which 
is probably as large an income, as, upon an average, is re- 
ceived by clergymen, lawyers, physicians, and merchants, 
in this country. In many cases, from this income, house- 
rent is to be paid, fuel and provisions are to be furnished, 
children to be educated, and a family clothed. What, in 
such a situation, should be the management of a wife and 
daughters .'' Perhaps some may reason something In this 
way : my husband, or father, has an income of a thousand 
dollars ; now, I want this shawl, w^hich costs only thirty 
dollars, or this bonnet, which costs only twenty, and this 
will be but a very little part of the yearly income. I am 
sure it can be easily spared. But, if the calculation were 
first made, how much of this sum must be expended in 
necessaries, it would be at once seen, that very httle 
could be afforded for superfluities. 

But, if the yearly income should be no more than four or 
five hundred dollars, as is the case with many respectable 
clergymen, professors, and teachers in literary institutions, 
and others in our country, who are considered as holding a 
station, in society, above the lower classes, how very im- 
portant, that the wives and daughters of such men should 



ARITHMETIC AND ALGEBRA. 217 

be well versed In practical arithmetic. They should un- 
derstand, that a hundred cents make a dollar ; and that 
ten dollars, ten times repeated, make one hundred dol- 
lars ; which is a large share of what their husbands, or 
fathers, have to spend for three hundred and sixty-five 
days. How absurd, then, for them to attempt to vie, in 
expense, with those who have an income four times great- 
er ! Nor is it a good calculation for women to attempt, 
by abridging themselves or their famihes of useful articles, 
to afford luxuries ; for, so far from a slender income be- 
ing concealed in this way, the contrast which must some- 
where exist, in the wardrobe, furnitui'e, or mode of hving, 
only renders the want of means, to carry out ambitious 
desires, the more striking. The necessaries of hfe are 
alike essential to all ; the conveniences are certainly de- 
sirable, but the luxuries may be dispensed with, and it is 
here that economy must begin. 

The want of wealth is not mean, nor vulgar. Many 
of the most refined and gifted of our race have been 
subjected to the inconveniences of poverty. When we 
consider, that the emoluments of a dancing-master are 
often greater than the salary of a judge upon the bench, 
we must cease to regard money as a badge of dignity. 
But we often see a woman, who, though she may have 
sufficient elevation of mind to prefer, for a husband, the 
intellectual man, without wealth, to the richer but igno- 
rant one, yet who evidently betrays great uneasiness at 
being obliged to live in a plainer way, than the wife of 
him, whom she would not herself have married. The 
female mind naturally loves elegance, and elegance easily 
becomes associated with the idea of expense. Plain and 
simple dress and furniture seem inelegant ; and thus comes 
the longing for such things as may gratify dehcacy and re- 
finement of taste. Men, in general, have more just no- 
tions, than women have, of what constitutes real dignity. 
I lately met, in an English paper, with a paragraph, de- 
scribing the eloquence of Lord Chancellor Brougham, on 
a certain occasion, and the enthusiasm with which he was 
greeted by the vast concourse of people who were assem- 
bled to hear him ; — but it was added, in conclusion, "his 
19 xviii. 



218 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

lordship was ill-dressed." How many w^ell-dressed per- 
sons, in that crowd, are destined to live unnoticed, and lo 
die unknown, while the name of Brougham has become 
associated with the literature and the laws of his country ! 

Does the venerable clergyman, the eminent jurist, or 
the distinguished man who has advanced the cause of lit- 
erature and science, though clad in garments somewhat 
"the worse for wear," shrink abashed before the fop, 
whose elegant and recherche* costume constitutes his 
only claim to notice ? Or, do we feel, in the presence 
of the wise and good, any the less respect for them, in 
consequence of plainness of apparel ? It is the character, 
and not the dress, to which the mind pays its homage. 

Let females, then, consider, that it is not the want of 
wealth, but a timid shrinking from the appearance of econ- 
omy, that is really mean and vulgar. There are many 
women, who set a noble example of a dignified economy ; 
who show the correctness of their judgement, by a strict 
attention to practical arithmetic. They can say, with- 
out a blush, " I cannot afford such an expense." Among 
these, is a lady, whose family name is distinguished in our 
country. Her paternal home was a princely abode, where 
reigned luxury, elegance, and a profuse liberahty ; the 
resort of foreigners of distinction, and the polished of our 
own country. x\ll found a ready and magnificent hospital- 
ity, with splendid equipages at command, whenever they 
wished for an excursion through the beautiful and pictur- 
esque scenes, which surrounded the mansion. But the 
statesman, the pohtician, the man who had held the first 
office in the Republic, and had represented it in foreign 
courts, died, and left to his daughter no other inheritance^ 
than the gratitude of his country. But never, in her ele- 
vation, did this daughter appear with so much dignity, as 
in the manner with vt'hich she submitted to her change of 
circumstances. She adopted a strict system of economy^ 
and, without avoiding society, was contented to appear 
in it, at proper times, in a manner suitable to her alt-ered 
condition. Calhng, one day, to see a stranger, to whom 
she wished to pay attention, she apologized for having 

* Rare, scarce, affected, stiff, formal, far-fetched. 



ARITHMETIC AND ALGEBRA. 219 

deferred her visit, by saying, she had been too much in- 
disposed, to take so long a walk, and adding, with perfect 
cheerfulness, '•'■ I cannot now afford to keep a carriage.''^ 
A woman of less dignity would rather a stranger should 
have felt herself neglected ; would rather she should have 
thought any thing, than to have made the mortifying con- 
fession, "I cannot afford the expense." 

Another lady, who understands practical arithmetic, is 
the wife of a distinguished literary gentleman, and is her- 
self eminent for talents, and known to afford her husband 
very important aid in some departments of his studies. 
Their income is less than a thousand dollars per annum ; 
but the position they occupy in society, and their connec- 
tion with a Hterary institution, make it necessary that they 
should often entertain company. Though they have a 
family of young children, the mother says she can afford 
to keep but one domestic. By what magic do you, my 
young reader, suppose this lady educates her children, 
makes and mends the clothing for herself and family, aids 
her husband in his studies, is active in benevolent objects 
in society, and entertains a great deal of company ? It 
is all done by economy, — economy in time, in dress, 
furniture, and living. The family sitting-room is the 
dining-room, nursery, parlor, and drawing-room. The 
stranger, who is privileged to visit there, finds his hostess 
attired in the extreme of simplicity, though in a neat and 
becoming manner. While sustaining an animated con- 
versation, upon topics of important interest, she is also 
directing her little girls in their employments, and over- 
looking the arrangements of the plainly-furnished table and 
simple repast. While at table, the guest is not confused 
and troubled by any apologies ; but the soul is feasted with 
pious and intellectual conversation. The master of the 
house is no less calm than the mistress, during the prog- 
ress of the various domestic operations around him ; nor 
does it appear at all to lessen the dignity of the savant,* 
to see him bring in wood to replenish the fire, and, by 
various other little attentions, lighten the cares of his 
companion. 

* Learned man, scholar. 



220 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Who would not feel, on leaving such a scene, an in- 
creased respect for persons thus conforming, with dignity, 
to their real circumstances in life ; doing, with very lim- 
ited means, infinitely more good in society, than many 
who are daily spending great sums of money, with the 
foolish expectation of thus making to themselves a name ! 

May I here be permitted to allude to the domestic hab- 
its of a lady, well known in Europe and America, for 
her many and varied hterary productions, in prose and 
verse. Mrs. Sigourney, of Hartford, who, for the last 
twenty years, has been employing her pen, with so much 
advantage to the world, who has found time to perfect 
herself in the various departments of human learning, is 
also remarkable for her industry in feminine employments, 
her study of domestic economy, and her respect for all 
womanly virtues. Those who have been privileged to 
sit familiarly at her fireside, and to observe her care in 
little things, can scarcely reahze, that, in the prudent house- 
wife, the dutiful daughter, the watchful mother, and the 
attentive hostess, they saw the celebrated woman whose 
name is every where pronounced with admiration and re- 
spect. It would seem that she forgets, in her cares, no 
one but herself; and, in attention to the little circle around 
her, is unconscious of an existence as extensive as the 
English language. Nor does it, in any way, detract from 
the high reputation of this lady, that the labors of her 
mind have been to her a productive source of income. 
Her benevolence has thus found means, to answer the 
wishes of her heart, in doing good to others. The knowl- 
edge of arithmetic is, therefore, essential to genius, in 
order to render those who possess it useful to themselves, 
^nd those connected with them. 

Arithmetic teaches only the properties of numbers 
which are known ; its calculations are carried on by the 
use of figures ; but, in algebra, letters are made to repre- 
sent quantities that are unknown. It takes for granted, 
the unknown quantity sought, and, by means of one or 
more given quantities, proceeds, until the supposed quan- 
tity is discovered, by some other known quantity, to 
which it is equal. The first letters of the alphabet, a, 6, c. 



ARITHMETIC AND ALGEBRA. 221 

&c., are commonly employed to stand for known quan- 
tities, — the last, as a;, y, &c., for unknown. By this 
process, many questions are solved, which could not be 
done by simple arithmetic. A knowledge of algebra is 
necessary in geometry, mechanics, astronomy, and all 
branches of science, which depend on mathematical de- 
monstration. To those who desire a thorough education, 
a knowledge of algebra must, therefore, be deemed of 
importance, since it leads the way to so many other sci- 
ences. Not that some knowledge of astronomy, natural 
philosophy, and geometry, may not be acquired without 
the assistance of algebra ; but this knowledge must nec- 
essarily be limited and imperfect. 

Arithmetic may be considered as a germ, which con- 
tains within it the principles of algebra. The two sci- 
ences are intimately connected ; a knowledge of the one 
throws light upon the other. Arithmetic being the more 
simple, some knowledge of it should be possessed before 
commencing algebra. Every step, then, taken in the 
latter science, will throw light upon the former, and pro- 
cesses, which, performed by arithmetical rules, appeared 
tedious and complicated, may, by algebraic principles, 
be rendered clear and simple. Besides the practical uses 
of this science, upon which we have so much insisted, the 
accurate analysis, which it teaches, is an important means 
of intellectual discipline. 

Some would refer the origin of algebra to Plato, be- 
cause he first taught the principles of analysis, which are 
so necessary to the existence of this science ; but it is 
generally attributed to the Arabians, from whose language 
the word algebra is taken. In its original meaning, it 
signifies a reduction of fractions. The first treatise on 
algebra is said to have been written by Diophantes, a 
philosopher of Alexandria, who lived in the reign of An- 
toninus, towards the middle of the second century. In 
the fifth century, Hypasia, the daughter of Theon, a cel- 
ebrated geometrician, published a comment on the trea- 
tise of Diophantes. This comment a learned French 
mathematician notices, as " exhibiting a depth of thought 
of which few men are capable." Hypasia may be con- 
19* 



222 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

sidered as the first, who made of algebra a regular sci- 
ence. This woman, whom the same writer calls the 
*' honor of her sex," was professor in the famous school 
at Alexandria, and filled, with distinguished credit, a 
place, which had been rendered illustrious by many great 
and learned men. The people, stirred up by some who 
were envious of Hypasia's fame, accused her of politi- 
cal intrigues, and cruelly murdered her in the professor's 
chair. As the acquirements of this woman are recor- 
ded in history, as a wonderful phenomenon, we infer the 
general prevalence of ignorance among the females of 
that period. 

Geometry. 

Geometry, an important branch of mathematical sci- 
ence, takes its name from two Greek words, y»), ge, land 
or earth, and f^ir^ov^ metron, measure, signifying to meas- 
ure land. This science is supposed to have origina- 
ted in Egypt. According to two very ancient histo- 
rians, Herodotus and Strabo, the inundations of the 
Nile carrying away their landmarks, the Egyptians in- 
vented the art of measuring and dividing their lands, in 
order that each might distinguish his own territory, by 
its particular figure, and the surface which it was known 
to contain. Thus imperfect was geometry in its origin, 
commencing by a series of observations, which were 
confined to actual substances. By degrees, mankind 
began to generalize their observations of particular facts, 
and geometry became a noble and exact science, con- 
stituting a firm basis, on which many other sciences are 
founded. 

Geometry is the science of extension, and not only sig- 
nifies the measuring of land, but of the heavens also ; for, 
by its aid, astronomers have been able to ascertain the di- 
mensions of the heavenly bodies, the space through which 
they travel, and their distance from each other. All the 
deductions and reasonings of geometry are founded on a 
few simple truths, which are self-evident to all who pos- 
sess common understanding. These self-evident truths 
cannot be explained, since there are no truths of a more 



GEOMETRY. 223 

simple kind by which they may be illustrated. Any per- 
son who does not perceive that a whole is greater than a 
part, or that two things, which are equal to a third, must 
be equal to one another, must be considered as wanting 
in what is expressively termed, common sense. Thus it is, 
that in children, who prove to be idiots, it is usually first 
observed, that they do not understand these simple, or, as 
philosophers call them, self-evident, truths. If a child, old 
enough to comprehend the term one, does not understand 
that one and one make two, we have reason to fear that it 
has no understanding, or, in other words, is a fool. Thus, 
the ready comprehension of self-evident mathematical 
truths, and the power to reason from these to less simple 
truths, is considered as a test of a clear and sound under- 
standing. 

Our sex have been allowed to possess the faculty of 
imagination, and the affections of the heart, in a superior 
degree ; but we have been thought deficient in reasoning 
powers. Now, it is the reasoning faculty which distin- 
guishes the human species from the brutes. If woman is, 
in reality, devoid of this noble faculty, then is she a kind 
of intermediate link between man and the brute creation ; 
and the Christian religion, like the Mohammedan, should 
have provided, in a future state, some middle region for 
this being, who is neither to be, like the brutes, annihilat- 
ed, nor, like the nobler part of creation, entitled to a rank 
among superior intelligences. But it is unnecessary to 
urge any thing on this point. Women have now little to 
complain of, with respect to liberality of feeling towards 
them, on the subject of education. Advantages are now 
placed before them ; and they may prove the strength of 
their reasoning powers, in the study of mathematics, of 
logic, and even metaphysics, without fear of reproach, for 
attempting to pass the limits, which Nature has assigned 
for the operations of their minds. It is for the females 
of the present age to prove, by their own example, that 
knowledge is not a curse to the sex ; that it is to lead 
them in the path of duty, not out of it ; that it is to make 
them better daughters, wives, and mothers ; better quali- 
fied for usefulness, in every path within the sphere of fe- 



224 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

male exertions. By being enabled to see, more clearly, 
the peculiar obligations which devolve upon you, in your 
various relations, and to discern the boundary between 
your duties, and those of the other sex, sliall it be, that 
you will the more seek to pass that barrier, which the 
Almighty himself, in the peculiarities of physical, as well 
as mental, constitution, has established between the sexes.'' 
You are not called upon, to lead armies, to make and 
execute laws, and to preside over public safety ; but you 
may be called upon, to preside over the domestic circle, 
to regulate families by your wisdom, and to guide and 
enlighten the youthful mind. In the proper performance 
of these duties, will you need all that clearness of reason, 
and solidity of judgement, to which a thorough and well- 
conducted education may conduce. The object, in all 
attempted improvements in female education, should not 
be, to lead woman from her own proper sphere, but to 
qualify her for the better discharge of those duties which 
lie within it. It is for you to prove, by meek and gentle 
manners, by your pious walk and conversation, that the 
daughters of Eve may eat of the tree of knowledge, with- 
out danger, or sin. No law, divine or human, forbids that 
the female mind should seek to penetrate the mysteries 
of science ; and may we not hope, that the sad conse* 
quences of the disobedience of the first woman will, in 
some degree, be averted from the earth, by enlightening 
the minds of her daughters ? 

But we have wandered from our immediate subject, in 
following a train of thought, which naturally presented 
itself. We have spoken of the origin and meaning of 
geometry. It remains briefly to trace its progress. From 
Egypt, it is said to have been carried to Greece, by 
Thales, who, not satisfied to teach the Greeks what he 
had learned from the Egyptians, enriched the science with 
many propositions of his own. Pythagoras afterwards 
sucessfully cultivated geometry, and added to it, among 
other propositions, that of the square of the hypotenuse. 
Anaxagoras and Plato studied to explain the quadrature 
of the circle ; but Euclid, who lived four hundred years 
before Christ, and fifty after Plato, collecting all the truths 



GEOMETRY. 225 

that his predecessors had discovered, and adding many of 
his own propositions, may be considered as having estab- 
lished the science on a firm foundation. Of all sciences, 
none now remains, so nearly as it existed in ancient days, 
as that of geometry. The work of Euclid, although many 
improvements have professedly been made, still remains 
much as he left it. 

When natural philosophy is illustrated by mathemati- 
cal science, we term the study, mixed mathematics ; here 
is made a practical application of algebra and geometry. 
You should, as far as possible, connect with your investi- 
gations, the idea of actual substances ; for the mere theory 
of mechanics or optics is of little use, without a knowledge 
of their applications to the common objects around you. 
I recently heard a young lady, who had studied optics, 
call that a shadow upon the water, which was a reflection. 
Females are not, in general, as practical as the other sex ; 
they are much less abroad, where the operations and phe- 
nomena of Nature may be observed, and they find it more 
difficult to transfer their views from books to Nature. 
You may learn much practical science from an unletter- 
ed farmer or mechanic, who, although he could not ex- 
plain the principles of motion and force, by mathematical 
demonstrations, might yet teach you many useful facts, 
acquired by experience and observation. 

In concluding this chapter, I would remark, that it is 
far from my intention to depreciate those many excellent 
and elevated women, who have honorably discharged their 
duties in fife, without a knowledge of mathematics, or 
without those advantages for mental improvement, which 
females, at the present day, enjoy. Such cases do not 
invalidate any of the arguments we have offered on this 
subject. These are the very women, who, with lofty 
views of female duty and influence, and a sense of the 
weakness of their sex, would be the first to plead that 
they might be better fitted to discharge their duties, to 
exert a more beneficial influence, and that their minds 
might be strengthened and enlarged, by a judicious and 
liberal education. 



226 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

RHETORIC. — CRITICISM. COMPOSITION. 

The studies of rhetoric and criticism are more espe- 
cially designed for the cultivation of those faculties of 
mind, called taste ^ and imagination. Taste, by many 
writers, has been termed a simple, independent power, 
or sense. By Dr. Brown, it is considered as a complex 
state of mind, which may be analyzed into judgement, 
and emotion. The human mind is formed with a sus- 
ceptibihty of certain emotions, as beauty, sublimity, and 
ludicrousness ; these are the emotions on which taste 
chiefly depends, or which, in conjunction with judgement, 
constitute taste. Thus, a painter, having experienced 
the emotion of beauty, exercises his judgement in forming 
such combinations as may produce, in others, the same 
emotion. A poet must have experienced emotions, be- 
fore he can, by an effort of art, produce them in others ; 
and he exercises his judgement, in the selection and com- 
bination of his images, no less than the chemist, who puts 
together substances, in order to produce a certain result. 
That is, both the poet and chemist judge of the fitness of 
ideas, and of objects, to produce their determinate effects. 
For a clear and interesting explanation of the elements of 
taste, and of its three most essential qualities, refinement, 
delicacy, and correctness, I would refer to you ' New- 
man's Rhetoric,' an interesting and useful work, in which 
the author has taken up the subject in a philosophical and 
practical manner. He at once informs the student, that 
the art of writing well is not to be obtained by a set of 
rules, but that "the storehouse of the mind must be well 
filled ; and he must have that command over his treasures, 
which will enable him to bring forward, whenever the oc- 
casion may require, what has been accumulated for future 
use." He dwells, particularly, upon the necessity of 
mental discipline, especially the previous cultivation of 



RHETORIC. 227 

the reasoning powers ; and observes, that '^ the student, 
who, in the course of his education, is called to search 
for truth, in the labyrinth of metaphysical and moral rea- 
sonings, and to toil in the wearisome study of the long 
and intricate solutions of mathematical principles, is ac- 
quiring that discipline of the mind, which fits him to dis- 
tinguish himself as an able writer." 

The different branches of knowledge, which we have 
already considered, are all conductive to one great end, — 
that of enabling a person to compose with elegance and 
facility. And is this an object of little importance, even 
to our sex .'' We use the pen, as our tastes, genius, or 
mental acquirements, direct. Even the composition of 
a simple note of ceremony attests the fact of mental cul- 
tivation, or the want of it ; and a letter, on the most com- 
mon subject, plainly indicates what has been the writer's 
education. Higher efforts of mind, such as stories for 
children, religious tracts, and works in the various depart- 
ments connected with education, are now considered as 
whhin the scope of female talents. But it must be re- 
membered, that these talents should be cultivated, with 
the most assiduous care ; that the various fields of knowl- 
edge should be explored, as far as possible, in order to 
become a successful candidate for literary distinction. 
The time has gone by, when a pubhcation meets with 
indulgence, because its author is a looman. We must now 
expect to be judged by our real merits, and titles to ap- 
probation. 

Grammar and rhetoric bear to each other an intimate 
relation. The former teaches the method of speaking and 
writing with accuracy ; the latter, of arranging thoughts 
with propriety and elegance. The science of rhetoric 
is founded upon observations of the nature and operations 
of the human mind, and by a critical analysis of the style, 
and an examination of the methods of arrangement, of 
those authors whose works have been most generally ap- 
proved. The chapter on literary taste, i"n 'Newman's 
Rhetoric,' is well written, and calculated to give just ideas 
of the peculiar merits of different authors ; it also happily 
illustrates the proper use of rhetorical figures. The chap- 



228 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ter on style is an interesting exposition of the qualities 
of a good style, and the modes of writing which charac- 
terize different individuals. This little work leads the 
pupil, in an easy and simple manner, to a knowledge of 
the rules and principles of rhetoric, and has the merit of 
more originality, than many school books, which profess 
to be improvements. 

Blair's lectures on rhetoric have been deservedly pop- 
ular. They are written in a pure and concise style ; but 
the larger work is too voluminous for beginners, and the 
abridgement, as is usually the case with abridgements, is 
a mere skeleton, without suitable illustrations. 

In pursuing the study of rhetoric, as in other branches 
of education, you should make it your constant aim to 
render your knowledge practical. You should examine 
authors, with a view of discovering their peculiar beauties 
or defects, and notice their use of the various figures of 
speech. This might be rendered interesting, as an amuse- 
ment. When young ladies are passing leisure hours to- 
gether, they might ask each other to point out, in any 
work before them, comparisons, metaphors, antitheses, or 
other figures. The suggestion, and proper uses, of figures, 
must be the result of much practice in composition, as 
well as the fruit of learning. The study of rhetoric will 
not, alone, give the power of writing with ease and ele- 
gance : this requires a knowledge of books, of Nature, 
and of the human heart ; a habit of deep and serious re- 
flection ; and a taste, at once delicate and refined. 

Criticism. 

Criticism is properly a department of rhetoric, but it 
has been treated separately, by some distinguished writers. 
The best works on this subject are those of Kames, 
Alison, and Campbell. ' Kames's Criticism' contains 
much valuable philosophy. The author appears to have 
studied the human heart with considerable success ; his 
style is agreeable, and he carries his reader along with 
him, in an easy companionship. The study of this work 
is an excellent preparation for mental philosophy ; indeed, 
it was, by the author, designed to hold a middle rank, 



CRITICISM. 229 

between moral speculations, and the study of the natural 
and mathematical sciences. Without attempting a theo- 
ry and classification of the passions, Lord Kames gives 
a variety of practical illustrations of their operations and 
moving principles ; and such as are calculated to be of 
great use, to a young person, on entering into life. The 
greatest objection to his work on criticism is, the occa- 
sional obsoleteness of the style, (his first edition was pub- 
lished as far back as 17G2,) and a want of system in his 
arrangements. These faults may be remedied, by the 
remarks of teachers, and care, on their part, to make a 
better arrangement. The practical part of criticism will 
not probably be acquired, in a very great degree, by the 
study of Kames, or any other author ; but a new stock 
of ideas may be gained, and the power of making, for 
yourselves, critical distinctions. 

x\lison is a writer of peculiar beauty and sweetness. 
The fault in his work, as a text-book on criticism, is, that 
he confines himself to the subjects of beauty and sublimi- 
ty, a sphere too circumscribed for so extensive a science. 
The politeness and respect, with which Alison speaks of 
the " profound remarks of Lord Kames," furnish a pleas- 
ant contrast to the illiberahty which writers often show 
towards those who have preceded them, in any particular 
department of hterature. The work of Alison is replete 
with beautiful passages, calculated to inspire the reader 
with noble and just sentiments. In his essays upon the 
beauty and sublimity of the material world, he leads the 
mind, in a dehghtful manner, to the contemplation of Na- 
ture, and its great Author. After expatiating on the mor- 
al effect of the study of Nature upon the mind, he finely 
and piously observes, " There is yet, however, a greater 
expression, which the appearances of the material world 
are fitted to convey, and a more important influence which, 
in the design of Nature, they are destined to produce 
upon us : their influence, I mean, in leading us directly 
to religious sentiment. Had organic enjoyment been 
the only object of our formation, it would have been 
sufficient to establish senses, for the reception of these 
enjoyments. But, if the promises of our nature are 
20 XVIII. 



230 FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

greater ; if it is destined to a nobler conclusion ; if it is 
enabled to look to the Author of being, Himself, and to 
feel its proud relation to Him ; then Nature, in all its 
aspects around us, ought only to be felt as signs of His 
providence, and as conducting us, by the universal lan- 
guage of these signs, to the throne of the Deity." 

After remarking upon the effect of natural scenery, 
upon elevated minds, he adds, "Even the thoughtless 
and the dissipated yield, unconsciously, to this beneficent 
instinct ; and, in the pursuit of pleasure, return, without 
knowing it, to the first and the noblest sentiments of their 
nature. They leave the society of cities, and all the ar- 
tificial pleasures, which they feel that they have occu- 
pied, without satiating their imagination. They hasten 
into those solitary, and those uncultivated, scenes, where 
they seem to breathe a purer air, and to experience more 
profound delight. They leave behind them all the arts, 
and all the labors of man, to meet Nature in her primeval 
magnificence, and beauty. Amid the slumber of their 
usual thoughts, they love to feel themselves awakened to 
those deep and majestic emotions, which give a new and 
a nobler expansion to their hearts ; and, amid the tumult 
and astonishment of their imagination, 

" ' To behold the present God, 
On the rocks by man untrod. 
On the hill-tops wild and rude. 
On the cliff's deep solitude. 
Where the roaring waters move, 
In the darkness of the grove.' 

"It is particularly on account of its moral efiect, that 
it is of so much consequence to encourage their instinc- 
tive taste for the beauty and sublimity of Nature. While 
it opens to the mind of childhood, or youth, a source of 
pure and of permanent enjoyment, it has consequences 
on the character and happiness of future life, which they 
are enabled to foresee. It is to provide them, amid all 
the agitations and trials of society, with one gentle and 
unreproaching friend, whose voice is ever in alliance with 
goodness and virtue, and which, when once understood, 
is able both to soothe misfortune, and to reclaim from 



COMPOSITION. 231 

folly. It is to identify them with the happiness of that 
nature to which they belong ; to give them an interest in 
every species of being which surrounds them ; and, amid 
the hours of curiosity and delight, to awaken those latent 
feelings of benevolence and of sympathy, from which all 
the moral or intellectual greatness of man finally arises. 
It is to lay the foundation of an early and of a manly 
piety ; amid the magnificent system of material signs in 
which they reside, to give them the mighty key which 
can interpret them ; and to make them look upon the 
universe which they inhabit, not as the abode of human 
cares, or human joys, only, but as the temple of the Liv- 
ing God, in which praise is due, and where service is to 
be performed. '^ 

Composition. 

The study of belles lettres, and of rhetoric and crit- 
icism, is introduced into education, principally for the 
purpose of improving the young in the art of composition. 
It is, indeed, pleasant, to be able to judge of the perfor- 
mances of others ; to know the causes of our approbation 
or disapprobation of literary works, to enter into the se- 
crets of the mind, and explore its mysterious laws ; to com- 
pare the productions of genius with those rules which Na- 
ture suggests ; and to observe the uniformity of her oper- 
ations in all well-organized minds : all this is agreeable ; 
but it is still more desirable, still more delightful, to be 
able, of ourselves, to execute ; to catch the train of ideas, 
as they glide through our minds, and paint them, in all 
their freshness and originality, for our own future exami- 
nation, or for the inspection of others. 

Of all the enjoyments granted to mortals, this is prob- 
ably the most exquisite and the most elevated ; to behold, 
before us, the image of our own minds, the glowing tran- 
scripts of our own thoughts, as delineated by ourselves !— 
it seems to assimilate us, in some degree, to the great Cre- 
ator of mind, when we are able to render its operations 
visible. Many, who are conscious of elevated thoughts, 
are destitute of a power of expression suited to them ; 
many, in whom the fire of genius is smothered by igno- 



232 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ranee and prejudice, feeling within themselves the work- 
ings of a latent intellect, sigh for education, as the great- 
est of human blessings, as the means of elevating the 
mind, and rendering its operations sources of the highest 
enjoyment. Under the greatest disadvantages, the light 
of genius has occasionally burst forth, discovering, upon 
the shoemaker's bench, a tuneful and sentimental Bloom- 
field, or, at the plough, a noble and high-souled Burns. 
But instances are rare, in which unaided genius acquires 
the confidence to come forth, and try her pinions. Edu- 
cation is required, by most minds, in order to give the 
courage and skill, necessary for effort, in the regions of 
composition. And besides, we must acknowledge, that 
genius is not a common gift ; 1 mean, that fire, which, un- 
less it can have vent, consumes the soul. And in this, we 
see the goodness of our Creator ; for genius is of too fine, 
too exquisite a nature, to bear the rude contact of worldly 
things ; it droops and folds its wings, when calamities 
assail. Even the imaginary sufferings of a flower, trans- 
planted from its own home ; a rose, plucked from its pa- 
rent stem ; or the agonies of a worm, or insect, — are suffi- 
cient to call forth its tender and plaintive wailings : how, 
then, can it look upon human sufferings, poverty, oppres- 
sion, injustice, treachery, pain, and death ? Indeed, we 
often see that mind, which exhibits unequivocal marks of 
genius, early fading away, as if the atmosphere of the 
world were too cold for its sensitive nature : thus have 
Henry Kirke White, and Lucretia Davidson,* and many 
others, gradually sank to an untimely grave, — apparently, 
through an excess of sensibility. 

But is there no remedy for this } Must the fairest and 
best of human blossoms be given up, to be chilled by the 
frosts, and blighted by the mildews, of an ungenial world } 
Let a suitable and proper direction be given to sensibili- 
ty ; let it be disciplined and chastened. Let education 

* Miss Davidson died in 1825, at the age of seventeen. A volume 
of her posthumous v^^orks, entitled, 'Amir Kahn,and other Poems,' 
has received much praise from critics. The British reviewers spoke 
of it, as an extraordinary production, — comparing her to their favorite 
and lamented White. 



COMPOSITION. 233 

be properly conducted, and then will reason and judge- 
ment be brought to sustain and guide the trembling, aspir- 
ing, ethereal spirit, which is ever shrinking from real evils, 
and refusing to look, with steady eye, upon the obstacles 
in the pathway of life. But, supported by reason and 
judgement, sensibility may learn to encounter evils, and 
to overcome difficulties ; especially does she need the aid 
o[ religion^ to reconcile her to earthly sufferings, in view 
of a happier future. I have spoken of sensibility, because 
I believe it always belongs to true genius, and to be the 
cause of those frequent failures in life, which are observ- 
able among those who are highly gifted ; but a proper 
mode of education may do much towards chastening, and 
giving it a right direction. 

Lucretia Davidson, the lovely girl, whose precocious 
powers have been the admiration of many, probably fell 
a victim to an extreme and morbid sensibility. In her 
childhood she had been indulged, in her fondness for se- 
clusion, and sohtary musings. Her education, owing to 
pecuhar circumstances, had not been systematically and 
thoroughly pursued. In 1824, when about sixteeh, she 
became a member of the Troy Female Seminary, with 
which the writer was, at that time, connected. She at 
once surprised us, by the brilliancy and pathos of her 
compositions ; she evinced a most exquisite sense of the 
beautiful, in the productions of her pencil, always giving, 
to whatever she attempted to copy, certain peculiar and 
original touches, which marked the liveliness of her con- 
ceptions, and the power of her genius to embody them. 
But, from studies which required calm and steady inves- 
tigation, efforts of memory, judgement, and consecutive 
thinking, she seemed to shrink, and to regard, with dis- 
may, any requisitions of this nature. Even in a study, so 
easy as geography, she found a difficulty in preparing her- 
self for recitations. At the approach of examination, shia 
was agonized, with the fear of disgracing her class ; and, ih 
order to calm her apprehensions, I had "promised to ask 
her very few questions. When it came her turn to re- 
cite, instead of taking the subject next in order, which 
would have been an explanation of the *' geological struc- 
20* 



234 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ture of the globe,'* which she had never felt an interest 
in learning, 1 asked her to give some account of the pe- 
culiarities of the torrid zone. Her countenance bright- 
ened ; she began, with the sweetest tones of voice, to 
describe the vegetable wonders of those regions, the 
spreading bananas, the lofty bamboo trees, forests ren- 
dered impenetrable by the luxuriancy of vegetation, and 
blooming with perennial verdure and beauty. She spoke 
of the mighty elephant ; the hippopotamus, rolHng his 
enormous bulk along the rivers of Africa ; the fierce hons 
and tigers, poisonous reptiles, and ensnaring crocodiles ; 
and the great anaconda, winding his huge coils around his 
helpless victim : nor did she fail to describe that dreadful 
vampire, which seeks the traveller, in his hour of sleep, 
and gluts itself with his blood. She then, with a new 
and kindling emotion, spoke of the brilliant fire-flies, which 
illuminate those regions, in the night, as with a mass of 
liquid light ; of the bounding antelope, and of the beauti- 
ful gazelle, whose brilliant and fascinating eyes are the 
admiration of the beholder. 

So vivid, in my mind, is the recollection of her anima- 
ted and enthusiastic manner, at that time, the bright flash- 
ing of her dark eye, and the glow of her brilliant complex- 
ion, that the conception appears reality. I seem to see 
her before me, the personification of genius and sensi- 
bility. But the grave has, for many years, shrouded her 
form, once so interesting. We wull not here suffer our 
thoughts to rest ; but will rather say, with the poet, 

'* Not to the grave, my soul, 

Not to the grave descend, to contemplate 
The form that once was dear !" 

Let us rather think of the spirit, as disencumbered of its 
load of clay, and an inhabitant of a purer world. 

I have introduced the character of this young lady, to 
show you the great importance of early mental discipline; 
for, lovely as genius and sensibility may be, in order to 
be useful, and adapted to the scenes of real hfe, they must 
be sustained by the other mental powers. We see the 
evils, of suffering any one department of mind to usurp 
unlimited power over the others. If a female could not 



COMPOSITION. 235 

be a fine writer, without becoming unfit for the duties of 
life ; if talents were necessarily connected with eccentric- 
ities ; I would at once warn all my sex from attempting 
to acquire these dangerous gifts : but I trust it is unnec- 
essary to point out the many literary ladies, who are among 
the active supporters of social and religious institutions, 
and equally distinguished for domestic virtues, as for high 
mental endowments. 

But we are yet to go back to the first attempts of the 
pupil, in the art of composition ; this it is necessary to do, 
for the benefit of our younger readers, or of others, who 
are unwilling to exercise themselves in this art. 

Those who are studying languages will derive great 
assistance in composition, from the habit of translating. 
It appears to me, that this advantage has not been suffi- 
ciently estimated : were h, indeed, the only one, I should 
think it a sufficient compensation, for the labor which is 
necessary in acquiring a language. If a student attempts 
to translate a fine passage of a Latin or French author, 
the mind, gradually seizing upon the ideas, seems to adopt 
them as its own, and, feeling itself elevated by this new ac- 
quisition, gains courage to undertake original composition. 
In translating, particular attention should be paid to the 
exact import of words. Thus, the word sentiment, which, 
in English, is apphed to opinions, is, in French, restrict- 
ed to the feelings of the heart, it being derived from the 
verb sentir, to feel. The French would not, then, speak 
o( political sentiments, but political opinions ; they would 
speak of a sentiment of gratitude, or love. When you 
reflect on the origin of the word sentiment, you will per- 
ceive, that there is a propriety in making this distinction, 
between this word and opinion, which is derived from a 
Latin verb, signifying to beheve. To those whom read- 
ing and observation have not furnished with a stock of 
ideas, for composition, translation may be recommended 
as a substitute, until they shall have acquired the confi- 
dence and ability, successfully to attempt to compose. 

I am aware that many young persons find original com- 
position very difficult ; indeed, it is not strange they do 
so ; for, when they write, they can only express, by writ- 



236 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ten characters, the thoughts which they have gained by 
reflection and observation. If they have reflected or ob- 
served but little, their stock of hitellectual weahh must 
be small ; and who can impart to others, that which they 
do not possess ? It may be asked, then, why should we 
be required to write compositions, before we are capable 
of writing well ? I answer, that, if you have but a small 
capital to begin with, your stores will increase by use. 
But I would here caution you, as to a choice of subjects ; 
for beginners in composition often select such, as would 
require a philosopher to investigate them. 

For example, — let us suppose a young Miss, unaccus- 
tomed to confine her thoughts, for any length of time, to 
any given subject, writing a composition on gratitude. 
She has a vague idea, that gratitude is something praise- 
worthy, and begins by saying, " it is a virtue that all should 
possess." When she has proceeded so far, she does not 
well know what more to add ; but the composition must 
be written ; and so she proceeds to say that " every one 
ought to be grateful, and when they see people in distress, 
they ought to relieve their wants :" — thus she goes from 
gratitude to benevolence, and, confounding the two virtues, 
destroys all distinctions of terms and ideas. 

It is very important, that, in your attempts at writing, 
you confine yourselves to subjects with which you are, in 
some degree, familiar. No matter how common or triv- 
ial may be the theme ; the object is, to acquire a habit 
of expressing your ideas, in writing, with clearness and 
simplicity. For example, — give a description of your 
own dwellinghouse ; state its length, w^idth, and mode of 
construction ; the materials of which it is composed ; and 
a little reflection, with some previous learning, would sug- 
gest to you the improvements which have been made, in 
the building of houses, and other kinds of architecture. 
You might describe your own room, with its furniture, 
&c.; or, looking out upon the prospect before you, delin- 
eate, in words, the various objects presented. Any pro- 
duction, of Nature or art, might furnish you with ideas. 
For instance, suppose you should write about an apple: 
you may think this a very insignificant subject ; but nolh- 



COMPOSITION. 237 

ing, that God has made, is insignificant ; nor is the power 
of describing the most common object to be despised. 
Well, now begin to think what you could find to say ahout 
an apple. You know to which of the kingdoms of Na- 
ture it belongs, and that it is a fruit, originating from a 
flower of a certain kind. The kind of flower might be 
described, the usual height of the tree, on which it grows, 
the chmate most favorable to the growth of this tree, the 
various culinary uses of the apple, the evil purposes to 
which the ingenuity of man has perverted it, &c. I have 
yet touched upon but a (ew of the subjects, which your 
theme might suggest ; still, much might be said, upon 
each one of the above-mentioned heads. A fly, a bee, 
or a butterfly, might aflbrd subjects for your pen. I do 
not mean, that you are, in your descriptions of an apple, 
or an insect, to write as a botanist or geologist would do ; 
but that you are to express, in simple language, your own 
observations upon them. I have said your own observa- 
tions ; you will please to notice this ; for, without obser- 
vation, you cannot write on any subject, except it be 
merely to repeat, like the parrot, what you hear from 
others. But, by attempting to describe common objects, 
you will see the need of observation and attention, with re- 
spect to common things, and that learning is not confined 
to the knowledge which may be obtained from books. 

By using your knowledge, however small the stock, at 
first, may be, you will continue to add to your intellectual 
stores. The idea of wanting to know something, that you 
may communicate in your composition, will induce you to 
pay attention to objects around you, to hear the remarks 
of wiser people, and to recollect what you read in books. 
But do not allow yourselves to borrow from others. On 
reading a very spirited or profound composition, from a 
young lady of limited talents and opportunities, a teacher 
immediately beheves that it is borrowed. Such a prac- 
tice is not only stealing from others, but defrauding one's 
self, since it deprives the plagiarist of the "aid of her teach- 
er, in correcting her own faults. If a pupil begin with 
compositions, above her capacities, she must continue 
them, or the deception will appear. But I should very 



238 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

unwillingly believe, that any young lady would wish to 
gain reputation for talents she does not possess, or would 
be so unjust to herself, as to prevent her own improve- 
ment, in the attempt to seem to be what she is not. 

Look around you, and you see innumerable objects, 
the production of Nature and art ; all of these have pe- 
culiarities of their own, which may be described, even 
with no other knowledge of them, than may be gained by 
the sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. Innumerable 
comparisons, between these objects, will also naturally 
suggest themselves to your mind. As you acquire more 
knowledge, you will think of many relations, existing be- 
tween them, which you do not now observe. The subject 
of geology will lead you to reflect on the many things 
which may be said, even of stones.* You have, perhaps, 
thought that all were alike; but you now find that there is 
a diversity of character among rocks, as well as people. 
The rocks are not morally or intellectually different from 
each other, since they are destitute of intelligence, and 
even of life, which plants possess ; but rocks and stones 
are physically different ; that is, their external appearance 
is various, and their chemical composition different. 

When you walk or ride out, you can always meet with 
something, animate or inanimate, that may serve for the 
subject of a composition. When you see a person in 
affliction, or behold some one, debased by intoxication, or 
taking the name of God in vain, emotions of various kinds 
will be aw^akened, and these will suggest matter for com- 
position. When you see one relieving distress, you will 
sympathize with the feelings of those who receive the 
kindness ; and thus, from your own observation and re- 
flection, you may comprehend the nature and obligations 
of gratitude. Yet still, you may not be able to investigate 
this emotion, with the precision and accuracy of a philos- 
opher ; for, in order to do this, you would need to be 
acquainted with the operations of the mind, and the rela- 
tions of cause and effect. 

To all writers, I would say, be careful of going out 

* See an interesting work, entitled, ' Scenes in Nature,' forming 
vol. vii., of the Juvenile Series of' The School Library.' 



COMPOSITION. 239 

of your own depth ; study to understand the nature of 
your own minds, and occupy yourselves with subjects, 
which you most readily and fully comprehend. Write as 
if you had something to say, not as if you attempted to 
say something, because you must write. If your minds 
are properly discipHned to habits of reflection, you must, 
with all that you are studying, hearing, and seeing, have 
something to say, respecting your own observations, re- 
flections, sentiments, and opinions. It is well for ad- 
vanced students to write, frequently, on the subjects which 
they are engaged in studying. 

A pupil in astronomy, having beheld the heavens, tra- 
ced the path of the constellations, contemplated the planets 
and the fixed stars, as they are arranged in their beautiful 
order, may surely find enough to say of such observations. 
She might, as genius or inchnation prompted, state in pre- 
cise and scientific language, the various celestial phenom- 
ena, or, with a glowing imagination warmed, rise to a style 
of subhmity. Or, if a Christian, and impressed with the 
thoughts of the Divine power, which created and upholds 
this wonderful universe, she would naturally be led to 
pour forth the devout expressions of a pious heart. Me- 
chanical philosophy, optics, botany, chemistry, and all 
physical subjects, should lead the mind of the student to 
the observation of Nature ; and such observations will 
furnish abundant and interesting matter for composition. 

History and geography are fruitful, in subjects for the 
exercise of the pen. Rhetoric and criticism are intended, 
chiefly, to teach you to arrange your thoughts with clear- 
ness and elegance, and to avoid errors, which might 
offend the ear of taste, and rules of composition. Moral 
philosophy, leading the mind to reflect upon the recipro-, 
cal duties of mankind, and their common obligations to 
their Maker, cannot fail to suggest new trains of thought. 

And, when the empire of the human mind is first un- 
folded, as it were, upon a map before. you, and the 
devious windings of thought traced to their mysterious 
sources ; when you are first led to perceive that the mind 
possesses the power of looking inwardly, upon its own 
operations ; how many new and interesting ideas spring 



240 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

into existence ! Copy these, in their own native freshness 
and vividness of coloring, and the transcript cannot fail of 
being delightful to others. 

The first impressions, which the various branches of 
literature and science make upon the mind, have a char- 
acter of originality and enthusiasm, which cannot after- 
wards be caught. These evanescent emotions should then 
be secured, by copies made when they are fresh and new. 

I have not recommended the attempt to write stories, 
from the imagination. This may be well occasionally ; but 
it has the bad effect of bringing the mind too much under 
the dominion of fancy. It is better for young ladies to 
occupy themselves with realities, than to stray too much 
into the dangerous regions of imagination. Besides, the 
practice of writing tales has a tendency to form a tin- 
selled kind of style, not to be compared, in dignity or 
propriety, with a simple and plain manner of telling truth. 
As the various departments of human knowledge become 
more enriched with facts, and these facts are arranged ac* 
cording to the rules of science, ample scope will be found 
for the exercise of the human faculties ; and, although we 
desire not to see the province of fiction deserted, yet we 
would see a higher rank awarded to those, who search for 
and discover truth, who assist and perfect Nature, than 
to the fabricators of those gossamer tales, which receive 
all their coloring from the varying and illusive hues of 
fancy, and which have no higher aim, than the amuse- 
ment of hours already too short and too few, for the great 
objects of human existence. 

Poetry is a species of composition, which none should 
attempt, except those who are strongly prompted by 
genius. True poetical talent is rare, and can never be 
forced into existence. When it is possessed, it should be 
regarded as a precious gift from the Creator, and enlisted 
in the service of virtue and piety. 



LOGIC. 241 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

LOGIC. MORAL PHILOSOPHY. INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The study of logic should precede that of intellectual 
philosophy. As it is now taught, this science differs 
much from the logic of Aristotle, and the ancient schools. 
With them, it was a tissue of subtilties and absurdities ; it 
taught, to support both truth and error, furnishing arms 
alike to both. Amid the multiplicity of rules for the guid- 
ance of reason, reason herself seemed wholly lost sight 
of. It was like loading a warrior with armor, until he is 
crushed and buried beneath its weight. The ancient pre- 
judices, with respect to modes of reasoning, for a long 
time kept every science in a state of obscurity ; for, on 
the free exercise of the reasoning power in man, depends 
every degree of improvement in scientific research ; in- 
deed, there can be no research, when reason is fettered. 
Thus, in attempting to foster and improve reason, she be- 
came bewildered and exhausted. As an illustration of 
the absurdities of the mode of reasoning, encouraged by 
the logic of the schools, the following story has been re- 
lated. " The son of an unlettered farmer, who had been 
sent to college for his education, returned to his father's 
house, puffed up with pride, and expecting to astonish 
every one with the wonderful extent of his knowledge, 
and the sophistry which he had learned. Sitting one 
day at the breakfast table, with his honest parents, the 
young pedant, observing that there were but two eggs, 
— 'I can prove to you,' says he, 'that here are three 
eggs ; — here is one^ and here are tioo ; now, father, will 
you not allow that one and two make th^ee V The fa- 
ther could not refute the argument, although it contradic- 
ted the evidence of his senses ; but, taking one of the 
eggs himself, and giving the other to his wife, said, ' As 
for you, my son, you may take the third, as a reward for 
your learning.' " 

21 XVIII. 



242 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

The proper object of logic is, to teach the operations 
of the human mind, the method of reasoning and arrange- 
ment, which is conformable to those operations, and to 
distinguish truth from error. So far, then, from being 
an artificial science, logic ought to be a deduction from 
observations made upon the nature and operations of the 
mind. It has been remarked, that God did not make 
man, and leave Aristotle to complete this work, by giv- 
ing him, as the ancients seemed to believe, the power of 
reasoning. So blindly was the system of Aristotle fol- 
lowed, that, during the dark ages, in some parts of Eu- 
rope, it was made a crime, punishable with death, for a 
person to advance any opinion, contrary to the doctrines 
of that philosopher. The art of reasoning, or the true 
logic, must have been coeval with the dawning of the hu- 
man understanding. When Adam gave names to the 
beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fish of 
the sea, he exercised the power of reasoning with as 
much propriety, as any follower of Aristotle could have 
done, and probably with far less embarrassment. The 
latter would, in the first place, have needed to establish, 
syllogistically, the fact, that a beast was not a fowl, and 
that a fowl was not a fish. He would have thought It 
necessary to decide, whether there was, in reality, any 
such thing as classes of beings, such as we now call dogs, 
cats, horses, &c. ; or, whether, putting certain beings in 
a class together, and giving them one common name, 
such as dog, &c., does not give them that relation to 
each other, which the mind considers as belonging to in- 
dividuals of the same class. 

The ancient realist would have gravely decided, that 
we must look into our minds for an image, which should 
be the representative of any one genus, and must compare 
the real animal with the Idea ; thus, the idea or Image of 
a dog, in our minds, should be the standard to which all 
real animals, which were to be included under the genus 
dog, must be found comforraable. Plato and Aristotle 
were realists. The nominalist would have said, that 
it was of no consequence what animals were called dogs, 
what were called cats, &c. ; for, by giving to any par- 



LOGIC. 243 

ticular number of animals the same general name, we 
should learn to associate them in our own minds. Thus, 
wlien the word dog was called, we should think of other 
beings of the same name, although this resemblance in 
name was, in fact, the only relationship which the mind 
acknowledged between them. 

It does not appear that Adam was troubled with any 
of these logical subtilties, in naming the animals. En- 
dowed by his Creator with the power of perceiving re- 
semblances, and, probably, having received also a knowl- 
edge of language, he had onl}^ to examine the different 
created beings, in order to perceive, at once, certain dis- 
tinctive characters between the different families, and to 
give a general name to each family, or genus. Wheth- 
er the names which he gave were entirely arbitrary, or 
founded on some peculiarity of the animal, we do not 
know ; though the latter appears a probable supposition. 
For, notwithstanding the many transformations which lan- 
guage has undergone, we still perceive, in many cases, 
a resemblance in the sound of a word, and the animal 
which it denotes. How far our associated ideas may in- 
fluence us to imagine these resemblances, we cannot well 
say ; though this circumstance should be taken into con- 
sideration. You may be ready to ask, of what use can 
it be, to study logic, if it serve only to perplex and cloud 
the mind ? We have already informed you, that the true 
purpose of logic is, to assist in the developement of the 
reasoning powers, by rules drawn from observation of the 
nature and operations of those powers. Logic is not to 
teach you to reason, for Nature does this ; but it may as- 
sist you, by pointing out those methods of study and in- 
vestigation, which people of reflection and observation 
have found to be most useful to themselves, and others. 
Those who have studied any of the branches of natural 
science, particularly botany, have already been initiated 
into the principles of logical division and method. Math- 
ematical demonstration is but the constant practice of 
true logic ; and the latter science will be, to those of you 
who are familiar with such demonstrations, but a review 
of familiar principles and facts. 



244 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

' Hedge's Logic' is a valuable text-book ; it contains 
the most useful principles of the science, and is little en- 
cumbered with the useless rubbish of the ancient schools. 
In school recitations, in this study, it is very difficult to 
change the language of the author, in any great degree ; 
the precise word, used in definitions, is here, generally, 
the very one which is needed, and the idea might be 
changed, or obscured, by attempting to alter the mode 
of expression. While it shows a dull and mechanical 
mind, to be confined to the mere words of a text-book, 
it is, on the other hand, a foolish affectation and pedan- 
try, to avoid, with scrupulous care, using any of an au- 
thor's expressions, however fine or forcible they may be. 
No pupil need to fear being suspected of learning by rote, 
when this is not the case. There is as much difference 
in the manner of recitation, between one who understands 
what she says, and one who repeats w^ords from memo- 
ry merely, as between the chattering of a parrot, and the 
conversation of an intelligent person. The kindling of 
mind, the beaming forth of intellect, is never to be con- 
founded with mechanical effort. Before closing my ob- 
servations upon the study of logic, I will offer a transla- 
tion of some remarks from a French work, entitled, 
' Conseils d^un Pere sur V Education des Filles.''* 
" Teach your daughters to search for principles founded 
in truth and wisdom ; teach them to contract the habit 
of ascertaining, as far as possible, whether what they wish 
to do, is conformable to both these ; teach them to doubt, 
upon all subjects that are not evident, but that, when they 
have well examined the foundation, and are certain of the 
correctness of the reasoning founded upon a sure basis, 
they should then know how to stop. Teach them, not 
to wander from this focus of light, but, keeping their eye 
fixed upon this point, render it a means of discovering 
any fluctuation, in their future opinions or conduct. Cor- 
rect principles are a port, in the tempest ; they are an 
asylum against the attacks of error ; an inexhaustible 
fountain, the streams flowing from which are always 

* Counsels of a Father, upon the Education of Daughters. 



LOGIC. 245 

piire ; an unerring compass, to whose guidance we can 
yield ourselves, without fear. We are strong, when 
our conduct has been regulated by the rules of truth and 
honesty. You are not called upon to prepare yourselves 
for the pulpit, or the bar ; though it is well for you to be 
capable of judging of the merits of those who do appear 
there ; and, although you may not be called to proclaim 
your own opinions, you may have the satisfaction of en- 
joying in secret, the pleasure of being able to judge, and 
to appreciate the efiorts of great minds. The logic, 
which we wish you to possess, is not that which leads to 
argument, but to the relation of thought ; that which shall 
enable you to establish rules for your own conduct. We 
would wish, rather to perfect you in the art of thinking 
and judging, than in that of speaking ; or, in other words, 
we would have your knowledge made subservient to use- 
ful purposes, not to vanity, or pedantry." 

The same writer, remarking on the necessity of order, 
in the train of thought, says, '' I had scribbled long, be- 
fore I knew how to wrhe. I had a tumultuous abundance 
of ideas ; they flowed from my pen with great facility. 
Letters cost me no effort ; but, when I came to treat 
upon serious and complicated subjects, I was confused. 
I felt that my reasoning had not that tout enseinble,* that 
connection, which characterizes energy and clearness. 
My discourses were but a collection of incoherent obser- 
vations, of isolated reflections, of which I could never 
endure the second reading. Ah ! how many manuscripts 
have I not destroyed, in impatience, and discouragement ! 
At length, a ray of light dawned upon my mind ; before 
beginning to develope a subject, I traced my plan ; I 
did as does the architect, who determines the proportions 
of a building, before laying a single stone ; and thence, all 
dijfficulties in composition disappeared ! 

"From this sincere acknowledgement," continues the 
author, '^ you may form an idea of the importance of 
method, in the art of reasoning. Principles are the base 
and the fulcrum of every work ; method is the lever ^ and 

* Substance, totality, conformation, form, the whole taken together. 
Liter ally y " all together." 

21* 



246 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

analysis the proof. "^^ Is not, then, a rational and just 
logic, a treasure ? Is it not as valuable for woman, as for 
man, since the government of her thoughts, and the reg- 
ulation of her conduct, are of equal importance ? 

Moral Philosophy. 

Moral philosophy is addressed, both to the heart and 
understanding. Its principles should be impressed upon 
the mind, in the earliest years of childhood, as soon as the 
little being, destined to immortality, is capable of enter- 
taining ideas of right and wrong. There is a period, pre- 
ceding this, when the child is to be governed wholly by a 
feeling of instinctive obedience. It sees itself in the hands 
of its parents, knows that they have power over it, and 
learns to submit its will to theirs. But, as soon as the 
child begins to exercise its reason, as soon as the moral 
feeling begins to unfold, (we are here assuming the exis- 
tence of a principle, which some moralists, or rather im- 
moralists, deny,) then should its moral education com- 
mence. It should be taught, that the parent does not ex- 
act obedience, because he has power to do so, but because 
it is right ; because the parent has experience, and knows 
what is best. If one child take from another its toys, be- 
cause it has greater physical strength, it should be taught, 
that power does not make right ; and that it is wrong, in 
any case, to take what belongs to another, without the 
owner's consent. 

Thus should children, from the dawning of reason, be 
accustomed to reflect upon the moral relations of actions. 
The science of moral philosophy, as laid down in books, 
is but a collection of those rules and principles, which are 
considered as the proper guides of moral conduct, and 
which, in their simple forms, should be thus taught to chil- 
dren. The work of Dr. Paley, although liable to some 
objections, yet retains its place in most pubhc institu- 
tions. It possesses merits, of a kind very im])ortant in a 
school-book ; the style is clear and simple, the method 
of arrangement calculated to aid the memory, and the 
reasoning is, generally, precise and logical. The chap- 
ter on the moral sense does not appear to me to state the 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 247 

subject fairly, or to give to the argLiment that bearing, 
which rehgion, rnorahty, and experience, point out. 

Consider man as destitute of an original moral feeling, 
(the term sense is, perhaps, an objectionable one,) and how 
can he be considerered an accountable being ? Is it not 
this very feeling, implanted by God in the human heart, 
which renders man a moral agent ? Is not this moral 
feeling the foundation of all our ideas of right and wrong ? 
If right depended on custom, law, the will of a sovereign, 
or of a majority, where is our standard ? Dr. Paley would 
say, the revealed will of God. But, if we have no nat- 
ural feeling of rectitude, why should we think it right to 
render obedience to our Creator ? This question is thus 
answered by Paley : " We believe that God can reward 
or punish us ; that He will do this, in proportion to our 
obedience, or disobedience ; therefore, we will comply 
with His will, for the sake of the reward." 

But how is it with the Creator, Himself ? Are His 
acts good, because He is powerful } Or rather, is there 
not such a thing as a principle of goodness, of which God 
is the fountain, and which, when He created man in His 
own image, was imparted as the vital principle of the hu- 
man soul ? This soul, although corrupted by the Fall, 
still retains a portion of its Divine principle, which, even 
in the most debased condition of mortals, discovers it- 
self, by the remorse and shame which follow vice. With 
the exception of what I consider Dr. Paley^s erroneous 
ideas, respecting the want of an original moral principle, 
and the necessary consequences from this, which appear 
in his definition of '^ virtue, light, and wrong," &c., I 
regard his ' Moral Philosophy' as a work of great merit 
and utility. His views of the Sahbath are, however, far 
from being admitted, by all Christians ; most of whom 
believe, that the Christian Sabbath is a continuation of, 
and a substitution for, the Jewish Sabbath, and that we 
are under the same obligation to regard the fourth com- 
mandment, as the other nine. Dr. Paley considers it 
expedient and proper to observe the Sabbath, by attend- 
ing public worship on tliat day, and devoting as n)uch time 
as possible to spiritual exercises ; but he does not regard 



248 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the hallowing of the Lord's day as enforced by a com- 
mand. 

Parkhurst's ' Moral Philosophy' is designed to correct 
some of the supposed errors of Paley. Wayland's ' Moral 
Science' is deservedly popular, from Its excellent Chris- 
tian spirit, its logical reasoning, and Its clear and- forcible 
style. 

Although education Is based on the philosophy of the 
mind, this science is, very properly, as a department of 
study, the crowning of the whole superstructure. It com- 
mences, with some knowledge of the operations of the 
mind, and Is acquired In the first years of life. The child 
learns to know the opinions and emotions of those around 
him, by means of external signs*; and he must have rea- 
soned upon associated feelings, before he can have known 
how to move compassion by his cries, or excite laughter 
by his playful gambols. Every year of hfe increases his 
knowledge of mind ; he feels himself urged by motives ; 
he perceives a controlling power in himself, when he 
chooses to exert It, to stop the headlong current of the 
passions, or to direct them Into new and better channels. 
All observations, upon our own characters, or those of 
others, belong to mental philosophy. This Is the most 
valuable, or the practical part. 

When, therefore, you commence this study, in books, 
you continually meet with your own famihar thoughts. 
You had often observed. In yourself, the power of recal- 
ling one thing, by the help of others. For Insiance, when 
you had entered an apartment, for the purpose of finding 
some article, you perhaps had forgotten what you went 
for ; you were unable, by any effort of memory, to recall 
the lost idea ; but, by i-eturnlng to the place whence you 
set out, were reminded of it, by Its connection with other 
objects. You may not have formed any theory of the 
principle of association, and are, therefore, prepared to 
listen, with attention, to any explanation of phenomena, 
which are a part of the history of your own thoughts. 

Mankind, who are ever prone to excesses, have, from 
a period in which the study of the Iiuman mind was deem- 
ed above die comprehension of females, and unsuitable 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 249 

to their condition and character, gone to another ex- 
treme, in which the science of metapliysics is consider- 
ed little more than a plaything for children ; and young 
misses, who have neither yet learned to think methodical- 
ly, nor reason accurately, are heard to talk learnedly of 
the opinions of philosophers. 

Some of the elementary principles in the science of 
mind, as the distinct nature and different destinations of 
the soul and body, the superior importance of the spiritual 
part, and the child's obligations to improve his mental 
faculties, ought early to be pointed out. Such works as 
the ' Cliild's Book on the Soul,'* which, in language 
adapted to the capacities of children, leads them to re- 
flect on the nature and operations of the mind, cannot be 
too highly valued by parents and instructors. These truths 
form the foundation of all religious knowledge and belief; 
a belief in them is anterior even to the idea of a Creator. 
When the child, in answer to the question, " Who made 
you.'*" replies, "God," he must comprehend the truth, 
that there is a being whom he calls himself; that this be- 
ing is a something, unlike a stone, or a plant, neither of 
which, he knows, could understand or answer a question. 

Although some of the leading distinctions between 
matter and mind should be taught, even to children, I 
cannot agree with those, who recommend the study of 
metaphysics, as a preliminary step in education, on the 
ground, that pupils must be made to understand the nature 
of the mind; because that, in education, this is both the 
instrument with which the operation is carried on, and the 
object which is operated upon. We might as well insist 
that ia boy was not qualified to be put an apprentice to a 
carpenter, without a knowledge of the principles on which 
the lever, and other mechanical powers, operate ; in short, 
without understanding the theory of mechanics. If a 
child could not compare, reason, or remember, until he 
first understood the powers of his own mind, and the ab- 
stract nature of comparison, reasoning,. &c., these oper- 
ations could never be performed ; for the very study of 

* By Mr. Gallaudet. This little book, and its successor, the ' Child's 
Natural Theology,' ought to be found in all Sunday-school libraries. 



250 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

them requires their constant exercise, and an exercise 
rendered skilful by long practice. If works on mental 
philosojDhy are put into the hands of pupils, whose minds 
are not ripe for such investigations, the truths and reason- 
ings cannot be comprehended, and a rooted dislike will, 
probably, be acquired for the study. But, if the mind 
hav'^e been previously prepared, by suitable discipline, 
enriched by a knowledge of language, of history, and of 
natural science, so that illustrations, drawn from these 
various sources, can be understood and enjoyed, then will 
the science, which treats of mind, be imbibed with a new 
and enthusiastic delight. Often have I,* with sympa- 
thizing enjoyment, watched the kindling glow, lighting up 
the countenance of such a pupil, on hearing, for the first 
time, an explanation of some familiar operation of her 
own mind, or, when tracing the map of the human intel- 
lect, she beheld the innumerable little rills v/hich flow 
into the great ocean of thought, and traced them to their 
mysterious fountain. The sublime truths of the science 
now enter the soul, in all their freshness and beauty ; and 
this era, in the history of her own mind, is ever remem- 
bered, with deep and peculiar interest. 

I would not be understood as asserting, that, in the 
study of mental philosophy, the way is invariably strewed 
with flowers ; or that the pupil is always rewarded, by 
the pleasure of eliciting truth. In no other science, is 
there such a tendency in authors to wander into the ma- 
zy regions of hypothesis. Fancying that a new ray of light 

* The author, during the several years she had charge of the depart- 
ment of intellectual philosophy in the Troy Female Seminary, had the 
happiness of instructing many young ladies of distinguished talents and 
virtues, who now hold a high rank in society, and honorably sustain 
the various relations of life. Not a few are among that class, who are 
fulfilling one of the noblest and most important offices of life, that of 
teaching the young ; while others are exemplifying, in the domestic 
circle, the beneficial influence of educated women upon human virtue 
and happiness. When these pnges shall meet the affectionate glance 
of some of those, whose memory is thus dearly cherished, methinks 
the eye will glisten, and the cheek glow, at the recollection of former 
Bchool-d;iy scenes, of companions once beloved, and, it may be, of her, 
who watched over their intellectual progress, with nuaterual pride and 
anxiety. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 251 

has fallen upon their path, they often begin to see things 
in a different aspect from their predecessors ; and, al- 
though this new light may be but the coruscation of a 
brilliant fancy, the hues, which it imparts, are looked 
upon as so many revelations, made by the torch of rea- 
son. Thus have metaphysicians been liable to be jnisled 
by false lights, ever since the days of Aristotle, who as- 
serted that the mind resided in the brain, which was a 
dark cave, filled with miniature images, called thoughts, 
that came forward for the inspection of consciousness, as 
they were called up by memory, and retreated, as they 
were dismissed by abstraction. 

Since the time of Locke, metaphysical writers, follow- 
ing his example, have made the operations of the mind, 
or its faculties, and not its nature, or essence, the object 
of their investigations. These operations are known to 
us but in two ways, experience and observation ; every 
thing, gained by these sources, is an addition to the stock 
of human knowledge. The great point is, to know how 
to seize upon facts, and embody them in a manner to be 
intelligible to ourselves and others. Facts, in order to 
be useful in science, must also be properly arranged ; 
and the difficulty, with most minds, is, the want of a suit- 
able mode of arrangement. 

Logic and criticism are instruments, which teach the 
arts of thinking, and of arranging thoughts. Metaphysics 
is the science of principles ; it instructs man in the na- 
ture and use of his faculties ; it discovers to him his 
weakness, but, at the same time, shows him his strength ; 
it acquaints him with the extent of his reasoning powers, 
and that, although by these he may know many things, 
there is a barrier, beyond which he cannot pass. In this 
science, w^e learn to set bounds to the influence of human 
authority upon the mind, and that no truths, however 
strongly urged, should be received, but such as have a 
claim to our belief, founded upon reasoQ. The reason 
of each individual must be his own guide ; and it there- 
fore becomes a matter of great importance, that reason 
shall, as far as possible, be divested of prejudice, and as- 
sisted with fixed and unerring principles. 



252 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

In speaking of the influence of reason, in matters of 
belief, I would here observe, that I do not mean to in- 
clude the doctrines taught in the Holy Scriptures. With 
respect to Divine revelation^ after we have, by weighing 
its evidences, become convinced that it is, in fact, what 
it professes to be, the word of God, that it is impossible 
to resist the united testimony of collateral history, proph- 
ecy, the evidence of a multitude of competent witnesses, 
and the evidence of effects now before our eyes, namely, 
thousands of worshipping assemblies, calling on Jesus of 
Nazareth, and breaking bread in commemoration of his 
sufferings, — after we have become convinced, that any 
one of these evidences would be sufficient to establish their 
authenticity, and that this concurring testimony furnishes 
a mass of evidence, which it is impossible for reason to 
resist or deny, we must, then, fully and unreservedly re- 
ceive the Scriptures, as the word of God. Are these 
writings sometimes mysterious and unintelligible to us ? 
So is the moral government of God ; so are the dispen- 
sations of his providence. Are the truths revealed, of 
a nature which human reason cannot fathom ? So are 
many of the facts in the natural world. But do we deny 
the influence of that vital principle, which is the spring 
and source of organic life, because it is invisible to us ? 
We see its effects, and therefore believe in the cause. 
Shall we deny the operation of the Holy Spirit upon the 
human heart, because "it is a still, small voice, and we 
cannot tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth ?" We 
see the wicked man, turning from his evil w'ays ; the 
proud, becoming meek ; the drunkard, temperate ; the 
churl, hberal ; he who once scoffed at religion, sitting at 
Jesus's feet ; — and shall we deny that these efiects are 
uncaused, because we cannot explain them by deductions 
from human reason ^ Let us exalt human reason to its 
proper rank ; let us walk by its light, when we have none 
clearer ; but let us remember, too, that He, who gave 
man reason, and who " seeth not as man seeih," is to be 
believed and obeyed, without question as to the propriety 
or expediency of His commands. 

In all matters of human knowledge and belief, reason 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 253 

must be our guide : when we find a subject to be beyond 
our capacity, we should cease to investigate. Plutarch 
observed, that, as geographers, when they have laid down 
upon their map, those countries which are known, place, 
beyond these, their terra incognita^ or unknoivn lands 
and seas, so historians should use the same distinction, 
with respect to the fabulous and uncertain ages of the 
world. Thus should we, in all our researches, endeavor 
to distinguish the boundary, which divides the legitimate 
subjects of human inquiry, from what is beyond the knowl- 
edge of man. 

No further than perception will carry us, can we go in 
any human science. As discoveries are made, perception 
is aided and rendered more acute. Thus, the telescope 
has brought the planetary worlds nearer to us, and revealed 
new facts with respect to them, which are added to the 
science of astronomy ; the microscope has acquainted 
man with new wonders in the kingdoms of Nature, show- 
ing him, where vision had not before discovered life, that 
millions of living things exist, which we inhale with the 
atmosphere, and drink in the purest water ; that these 
animalculse inhabit every leaf, fruit, and flower ; that im- 
mense mountain masses of rock are made up of animal- 
culse remains : and some late discoveries would almost 
prove, that our own material frame is but a mass of hving 
atoms. Wherever observations can be made, there is a 
field for human inquiry. But all questions are profitless, 
which relate to infinitude, as infinite space and eternity ; 
to the connection between matter and mind, and to their 
essence ; the inhabitants of other worlds, and every thing 
connected with a future state, except as revealed in the 
word of God. All subjects of this nature should be 
considered, by metaphysicians, as " unknown lands, and 
unapproachable seas." 

Mental philosophy would be of little use, had it not its 
practical applications. Should young ladies, who have 
become familiar with the principles of this science, un- 
seasonably introduce their knowledge, or talk pertly of 
the opinions of philosophers, this would not show that 
they practically understood the human mind, or, as it is 
22 XVIII. 



254 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

more commonly expressed, human nature. It is to be 
presumed, that all wish to please, when this can be done 
without any sacrifice of principle ; that none would wil- 
lingly disgust others, or acquire the reputation of being 
pedantic. A knowledge of the operations of the mind 
should lead the young to consider, what kind of manners 
will produce the effect they desire ; it should teach them, 
that vanity, by leading to a foolish display of learning, 
would defeat its own end, and, instead of admiration, 
excite disgust. But there are, now, so many educated 
females, that there is little temptation for any one to be 
vain of her learning. This effect, which Hannah More 
anticipated, as the result of more enlarged systems of 
education, is now reahzed. A female, possessing a cul- 
tivated mind, is no longer regarded as a prodigy, and we 
hear far less of les has bleus* than formerly. Slip-shod 
feet, dirty caps and gowns, have ceased to be regarded 
as the characteristics of a literary woman, who is now al- 
lowed to dress herself neatly, after the fashion of the day, 
and to enjoy the social pleasures of life, like others of her 
species. Indeed, so far is learning, at the present time, 
from being a reproach to a lady ; that, when connected 
with good sense, and amiable manners, it adds greatly to 
her influence and respectability in society. 

But there is always a degree of delicacy, expected 
from a lady, in the use of her acquirements, which should 
not be lost sight of. The effect of these acquirements, 
as I have often remarked, should be exhibited in the gen- 
eral character and deportment, methodical arrangement 
of time, richness, ease, and variety of conversation, and, 
in short, the power of adapting one's self to the changing 
circumstances of life, and of fulfilling its many and varied 
duties. A practical knowledge of the human mind is 
peculiarly important to our sex ; it is a knowledge, which 
they have ever been quick to seize. The great volume of 
life, woman reads with facihty ; minghng in society, she 
soon learns the art of pleasing, and adapts herself to its 
prevailing taste and manners ; or, rather, she learns to lead 

* " Blue stockings ;" a French epithet, formerly applied, in ridicule, 
to literary ladies. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 255 

its taste, and influence its manners. The French women 
have, at different times, exercised great power over the 
minds of kings and statesmen ; they have often, though 
behind the scenes, been the real actors in the drama of 
life, while those, who fancied themselves such, were, in 
fact, but automatons, moving in a prescribed circle, and 
accomplishing the designs of those who led them. _ But 
how, in many instances, was this influence acquired, 
and how was it exerted ? Who are among the celebrated 
women, from Aspasia of Athens, to Madame Pompadour 
of France, that have been distinguished for their power 
over the other sex ? My young friends, they were 
those who sacrificed virtue and self-respect ; and who 
sought, in the triumphs which announced their own deg- 
radation, to stifle its remembrance. 

But these wanderers from the path of true dignity, and 
of virtue, had not the advantages of a consistent and 
moral education. Aspasia, it is true, lived in the age 
of Athenian glory, and was deeply imbued with Grecian 
learning ; but she had not the pure light of the gospel ; 
and the high rank which she held among the Greek phi- 
losophers, notwithstanding the licentiousness of her con- 
duct, show us the actual value of heathen morality. 

I remarked, that women are quick to learn the opera- 
tions of the human mind, by observations on society. 
But this does not preclude the utility of well-chosen 
books, and of systematic instruction ; on the contrary, 
it renders them more important, by giving their knowl- 
edge and tact a right direction. Without such aids, fe- 
males are too apt to exercise their ingenuity, in petty at- 
tempts to extend their empire over others, from the mere 
influence of external charms or fascinating manners. With 
more elevated views, they learn to value only the influ- 
ence, which is gained by the charms of intellect and the 
dignity of virtue. 

A just and practical knowledge of the human mind is 
highly important to women, in the several relations of 
life, domestic and social ; more especially, does the 
mother and instructer of youth need to understand the 
avenues and secret windings of the human heart, to be 
able to read the thoughts, and to direct them into their 



256 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

proper channel. Mr. Stewart remarks, '' The object 
of education should be, first, to cultivate the various fac- 
ulties of our nature ; second, to watch over early impres- 
sions and associations, to secure the mind against the in- 
fluence of error, and to lead its prepossessions on the side 
of truth." This science also may have a very important 
influence upon our own moral and mental improvement ; 
or, according to Stewart, " every person, on arriving to 
years of reflection, perceives in himself defects, owing to 
some mismanagement in education ; and, knowing the laws 
of his own mind, he feels the necessity of beginning a 
course for himself." 

This self-education is, after all, the great business of 
life ; it is in order to enable the young to discipline their 
own minds, to detect the errors in their own conduct, and 
the latent evils in their own hearts, that, for so many years, 
they are disciplined and taught by others. The sooner 
this lesson of self-education is learned, the sooner do the 
young assume the dignity of rational beings, and become 
fitted to be their own guardians. In reading the biogra- 
phy of eminent persons, we find that they were always 
strict in their self-requisitions and self-government. They 
observed themselves closely ; and, when they found a bias 
towards any particular fault or weakness, they directed 
their efforts towards correcting the one, and strengthen- 
ing the other. 

I would again urge the importance of keeping a diary, 
in which the moral tenor of 3^our actions, and the bent of 
your minds, should be scrupulously noted. This journal 
should be for your own inspection, only ; for, such is the 
decehfulness of the human heart, that it is very apt to 
suggest a too flattering picture of itself, where it is made 
with the design of being seen by any but the original. 

" Man, know thyself," is a precept as important as it 
is difficult in practice. To assist us in this duty, no sci- 
ence is more highly beneficial, than that which has the 
human mind for its object ; and yet, unless we add to our 
philosophy the wisdom of true piety, we shall never fully 
comprehend the extent of human depravity, or the true 
mode of purifying the heart, and rendering it meet for an 
pffering to its Creator, 



PART IV. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

MUSIC. DANCING. 

We have now completed our view of the various 
branches of literary and scientific education. We have 
considered them all under the general head of Intellectual 
Improvement, 

It has been my wish to give sketches of these subjects, 
which, though neither perfect in outline, nor minute in 
particulars, might, as graphic delineations, serve to fix 
their leading features upon the tablets of the mind. 

The chief object, in the attainment of what are called 
accomplishments^ ought to be, to soften and refine the 
manners, and add to the innocent and elegant enjoyments 
of human life. 

In music and drawing, the physical and intellectual pow- 
ers, and the emotions, are all exercised. Dancing is to be 
considered, chiefly, in reference to its effects on the mo- 
tions and carriage of the body ; although, as a pleasant and 
exhilarating exercise, it may be made conducive to the 
promotion of cheerfulness and good humor. 

Female manners cannot be taught, with didactic preci- 
sion, under any given number of rules. There is a cer- 
tain nameless grace, in fine manners, which it is impossi- 
ble to describe, and which cannot be traced to any one 
source. It is the result of education, intercourse with re- 
fined society, and that general benevolence, which wishes 
22* 



258 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

to please, not from the impulse of vanity, but because it 
finds its own happiness in making that of others. The 
manners acquired at boarding-schools are often, and not 
without reason, made the subject of severe remark. 
One writer says, " Boarding-schools give us artificial crea- 
tures, made up of artificial looks and smiles ; their airs, 
gestures, and articulation, are all a compound of affecta- 
tion. Such schools give forwardness to fruits, but de- 
prive them of their natural healthiness and flavor, and the 
fine ladies^ they send into the world, feel themselves ri- 
diculously exahed above all sensible conversation, or all 
attempts to be useful." 

Although the author, just quoted, appears to have in- 
dulged in too indiscriminate a condemnation of all board- 
ing-schools, we cannot but admit, that he has drawn a cor- 
rect likeness of many of the finished young ladies of the 
pi;esent day. To a sensible and elevated mind, nothing 
can, appear more ridiculous and contemptible, than the 
airs, which are sometimes assumed by young ladies, on 
leaving school, and making their entree* into the world of 
fashion. The cause of this exhibition of folly and affec- 
tation may often be traced to early associations, acquired 
under the paternal roof, and confirmed by a defective 
mode of education. 

The influence of maternal character is strikingly man- 
ifested, in the associations of the child. A young girl, 
who observes that show and fashion are the chief concern 
of her mother's life, very naturally acquires the habit of 
regarding these things as of the highest importance. She 
learns, that to play and sing well, and to possess a fashion- 
able air and manner, are to be her passports into the world 
of fashion, which, she is led to believe, is the true para- 
dise of life. Her young bosom heaves, with tumultuous 
agitation, at the thought of that period, when she shall be 
brought out, or become a young lady ; be entitled to co- 
quette, prattle nonsense, and play off the airs, which she 
has learned to consider the test of the elitej of fashion. 

* Pronounced ontra, and meaning entrance. 

t Pronounced aileety and meaning choice or select company. 



MUSIC. 2^59 

With such prepossessions, she is sent abroad to a board- 
ing-school, and with the avowed object, on the part of the 
parents, that she may, according to the technical phra- 
seology of the day, become ^ims^-ecZ, or perfect herself in 
certain elegant accomplishments. The inquiry, on the 
part of such parents, with respect to the character of a 
school, is not, what course of mental discipline is there 
pursued ; what is the tone of moral instruction, or the 
standard of intellectual attainments ; but, what attention is 
there paid to accomphshments ? and, what are the advan- 
tages for learning music, dancing, &c.? 

What must be expected, from the daughters of such 
parents, after the completion of an education, in a school 
conformable to their own false ideas of merits ? If young 
ladies enter life, fitted only for its gay scenes, what is to 
be their future destiny in the world ? So far are festive 
scenes from making up the whole of life, that, even in 
the most prosperous condition of human existence, there 
is more of sorrow than joy, more of mourning than mirth. 
It has been observed, by the good Hannah More, that 
"from the course pursued by many, with respect to the 
education of their daughters, one might, reasoning a pri- 
ori * be led to infer, that the life of women consisted of 
one.universalholyday, and that the only contest was, who 
should be best enabled to excel, in the sports and games 
that were to be celebrated in it." Now, it is this very 
idea, of the great importance of accomplishments, which 
causes so much vanity and affectation among females. 
Did they, for instance, regard music, merely as an agree- 
able and refined amusement, which would enable them to 
add something to the enjoyments of their friends, as well 
as afford pleasure to themselves, we should not see so 
much parade and fluttering, when a young lady is request- 
ed to sing or play in company. The idea that her per- 
formance is a matter of great moment, the expectation of 
the admiration she shall receive, or the fear of mortifica- 
tion, all serve to render her manner constrained and unnat- 
ural ; add to this, a habit of affectation, already acquired, 

* From the cause to the effect. 



$60 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

and we have the picture of many a young lady, exhibiting 
herself at the harp or piano, to the pain and mortification 
of all sensible and truly elevated people. 

Let music, and other elegant accomphshments, take 
their proper rank ; they are pleasant, as interludes in the 
great drama of life's duties. If an actor, in an inferior 
part, should fancy himself the hero, andsnufFthe candles, 
or perform any other trifling service, as though it were an 
affair of the first importance, the beholders would consid- 
er it ludicrous ; so, to a reflecting mind, appears the man- 
ner of those, who seem to think the singing of a song, or 
playing a piece of music, an occasion of the deepest in- 
terest. A long prelude of hesitation, apologies, and de- 
nials, must prepare the minds of the company for the great 
event; and, in many cases, the result of this preparation 
is, the interruption of all sensible conversation, for a very 
indifferent or affected performance. 

A young lady's appearance in conversation is far more 
important, as developing her intellectual attainments, than 
any musical performance can be ; and yet, few would re- 
fuse to enter into conversation, through consternation at 
the idea that they might not be admired, if they did speak. 
We do not expect the dumb to speak, neither can a lady, 
ignorant of music, perform, for the gratification of her 
friends ; but one, who possesses this accomphshment, 
should no more refuse to exercise it, at proper times, 
than she should refuse to converse. The great point is, 
to acquire proper ideas of the real importance of actions 
and things, that we may not attach undue importance to 
trifles. If a young lady, who is known to have some 
skill in music, after modestly stating her own deficiencies, 
performs but indifferently, she has, at least, shown an 
amiable, obliging disposition, in complying with the wishes 
of others ; and, in many cases, such instances have made 
lasting impressions, favorable to the character of a person. 
If another young lady shows herself off", with an air of 
vanity and self-satisfaction, however fine or scientific her 
performance, she has left no pleasant remembrance of 
herself, in the minds of the beholders. And really, of 
what use are the greatest acquirements in music, as re- 



MUSIC. 261 

spects the great business of life, or as the foundation of a 
character ? The stage probably affords finer specimens 
of musical talent, than any private circles ; and yet, how 
wretched and depraved have been some of the most dis- 
tinguished of its votaries ! at the best, how little do they 
contribute to the real well-being of mankind ! 

A French lady,* of distinguished talents, elegant man- 
ners, and the instructor of queens and princesses, in re- 
marking upon female character, and the influence of moth- 
ers upon the associated feelings and the principles of 
their daughters, says, ''Honored be the mother, who, in 
bringing up her daughter, is not actuated by the sole de- 
sire of rendering her fascinating ; who secures to her a 
durable good in the cultivation of her judgement, and in 
the enlightening of her mind ; who accustoms her to pre- 
fer duty to pleasure, knowledge to amusement ; who teach- 
es her to be learned, without pedantry, and graceful, with- 
out affectation. Then will this daughter be wise, without 
vanity, happy, without witnesses, and contented, without 
admirers." 

As an elegant accomplishment, and a resource against 
adversity, music may well be considered a desirable branch 
of education, when circumstances permit its attainment. 
This science may also be cultivated, without any detri- 
ment to mental improvement, since, during the time de- 
voted to it, the mind is agreeably relaxed, and the physi- 
cal powers are called into action. One or two hours, 
each day, devoted to practice, on any instrument of mu- 
sic, besides the usual time spent in receiving lessons, will, 
if faithfully improved, soon produce a manifest improve- 
ment. If this course is pursued, with persevering indus- 
try, for some length of time, a young lady may perform 
upon the piano or harp, with skill and execution. 

But I cannot avoid considering that parent or instructor 
as deeply guilty, who urges a child to spend the greater 
part of a day, in thrumming upon an instrument, leaving 
the mind to grow rank, with the weeds which will spring 
up where the intellectual powers are not cultivated, and 

* Madame Campan. 



262 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

suffering a young immortal to pass the most important sea- 
son of existence, without suitable mental and moral cul- 
ture. What can we think of that father, who compelled 
a daughter, for several years, to practise, twelve hours a 
day, upon the piano, and occasionally stood over her, 
with a whip, to urge her efforts ? The young lady, in- 
deed, became a great proficient in music ; she appeared, 
with eclat,* at pubhc places, and was the seven days won- 
der of the fashionable world. But she failed to make 
that splendid connection in life, for which it was supposed 
the father designed her. Though flattered and caressed by 
many, it did not appear that any gentleman of fortune 
thought, that the highest perfection, in music, was suffi- 
cient in a wife, to atone for the want of more common, 
though more necessary, qualifications. f 

I would not be understood as depreciating music, or 
encouraging its neglect. Those who possess a native 
talent for this delightful art, and whose circumstances ren- 
der its cultivation proper, should improve the opportunity 
of acquiring it. When commenced, music should be as- 
siduously pursued ; it requires much patience and prac- 
tice, to become even a tolerable proficient. A pupil 
should not only endeavor to acquire skill and taste in ex- 
ecution, but to understand the science, and to compre- 
hend the principles, on which it is founded. It is impor- 
tant, that those, who are to learn music, should commence 
the study while young. At this time, the fingers are pli- 
ant, and can easily accommodate themselves to exercises, 
which are found very difficult by older persons. At a 
period, too, when the mental faculties are but partially 
developed, there is not that necessity for the full appro- 
priation of time, to study, which is afterwards required, 
in the pursuit of the different branches of education. 

Madame Campan well remarks, that " the many hours, 
which a young girl devotes to the instrument, would be 
much regretted, if they did not procure her a genuine 

* Splendor, or show. 

tThe case, here mentioned, is one of real life, and which occurred 
in our own country ; though, I am happy to add, the father was not an 
American. 



MUSIC. 263 

talent for life. We hear it often remarked, that a young 
person, as soon as she is married, shuts her piano, which 
becomes merely a useless piece of furniture. This is true, 
when it recalls only the melancholy recollection, of a cul- 
ture without fruit. If, by means of repeated lessons, chid- 
ings, and tears, she is able to play some sonatas^* which 
have never contributed to her pleasure, nor that of others, 
is it not very natural, that she should free herself from 
this restraint, as soon as she can follow her own inclina- 
tion ?" But, if a lady can read music, and has entered, 
with any degree of enthusiasm, into the delights which it 
affords, she will never be likely wholly to abandon an ex- 
ercise, in which all the emotions find an answering ex- 
pression. 

In joy and sorrow, hope and despondency, the swelling 
heart may find vent, in sprightly or melancholy strains of 
music. I recollect an elderly and very amiable foreigner, 
whose cara sposa\ was not of the sweetest temper imag- 
inable, who always resorted to the piano, after a storm 
of female vengeance had burst upon his head. This in- 
strument seemed as a faithful friend, which gave out no 
other tones, but such as were respondent to his own feel- 
ings. And since females, though sometimes the aggres- 
sors, are often the aggrieved party, in domestic discords, 
music might be improved by them, to a similar purpose. 
Indeed, music, if cultivated and practised by a married 
lady, with the view to her amusement and improvement, 
must have a tendency, not only to console her in trouble, 
but to soften and elevate the tone of her mind, and to 
smooth the asperities of her own temper. 

Vocal music is far from being the artificial thing which 
some amateurs of the present day would make it. The 
birds have no Italian masters ; and yet, even the trills 
of the most scientific performers are far inferior to theirs. 
It has been proposed, to introduce vocal music into 
common schools, as one of the ordinary exercises. A 
gentleman,! "^^o has travelled much in Europe, states, 

* An Italian word, meaning a tune intended for an instrument only, 
t An Italian word, meaning wife. 
J Rev. W. C. Woodbridge. 



264 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

that, in Germany and Switzerland, music, both in theory 
and practice, is regularly taught, as an important branch 
in the national system of education. He says, that a dis- 
tinguished professor of the island of Sicily, on hearing 
of the unhappy influence of study upon the health of our 
literary men, asked, " What are the amusements of your 
literary men ?" When answered, JVone, the professor 
said, ''No wonder they are sick, and die of study ;" — 
observing, that he spent a stated portion of the day in 
recreations, of which, instrumental and vocal music were 
an essential part ; and that he thought he could not live, 
without the relief which they gave his mind. 

While speaking on the subject of vocal music, I can- 
not but deprecate the improper character of most of the 
popular songs of the day. Young ladies are often heard 
to express, in singing, sentiments that they would blush to 
utter, in conversation ; and even where there is nothing 
absolutely wrong in the thought, the words, set to fashion- 
able music, are usually without sentiment, or moral. The 
beautiful and chaste songs of Mrs. Hemans are a noble 
exception ; every thing, that came from her pen, is pure, 
and bears the image and superscription of an elevated and 
chastened mind. The plaintive and thrilling air of her 
' Bring Flowers,' the spirit-stirring ' Pilgrim Fathers,' 
and the wail of the ' Captive Knight,' are only equalled 
by some of the noble efforts of Heber. 

Has America no Hemans, who will awaken a sleeping 
lyre in behalf of her young sisters, to give them songs, 
which, instead of soiling the purity of their yet unpolluted 
hearts, may enlist their associations and affections in the 
cause of virtue ? Have we no Heber, whose lips, touched 
with hallowed fire, may warble forth strains, which shall 
waft the spirit above the mist and darkness of earth-born 
passions, and teach it to soar in the regions of a pure love 
and holy devotion ? Alas ! fashion'^s seal must first be 
set upon the noblest and purest efforts of human genius, 
before it can gain access to the temples where she is wor- 
shipped ; and we are led to wonder, that she has even 
deigned to accept offerings, as pure and holy as those, 
which have emanated from the spirits of Mrs. Hemans 
and Bishop Heber. 



MUSIC. 265 

To her, whose heartbeats high with the hope of admi- 
ration in the circles of fashion, and who has no object, 
beyond that of receiving this admiration ; to the gay and 
thoLighdess girl, who counts each day a weariness, till she 
shall be released from intellectual labor, and from reg- 
ularity in duty, and in conduct ; who feels, that she is 
about to realize, in coming scenes of amusement, those 
visions of earthly bliss, which had been impressed upon 
her almost infant mind ; — to such a one, it would be use- 
less to say, "let not fashion, let not the popular taste, 
seduce you from the straight and narrow path of female 
delicacy and propriety." Alas ! such warnings are vain, 
such admonitions are powerless, where the heart's affec- 
tions are already, in imagination, poured out at the shrine 
of fashion, — that destroyer of woman's purity, and sim- 
plicity of taste and character. 

My young readers, look well to the views and principles, 
with which you may be about to leave the quiet home- 
fireside, or the halls of science, where female virtues have 
been enforced, and female influence explained ; where 
every thing around you has tended to purify and elevate 
your mind ! Go not forth into the world, from these sanc- 
tuaries, thoughtless as the giddy insect, which rushes into 
the consuming flame. It is your duty and your right, to 
take, upon the stage of life, a standing, dignified as your 
rank, fortune, talents, and accomplishments, entitle you 
to; but forbear to lend your countenance to folly or vice, 
however elegant or fascinating they may appear. 

My remarks, on the study of music, have been some- 
what desultory ; and suggestions, connected with the 
subject, have drawn me aside from some observations 
which I would make, before leaving this topic. 

Previous to commencing this branch of education, re- 
flect, whether you have a natural taste for it, and whether 
this accomplishment is correspondent to your means and 
condition. If, in your own judgement, and that of your 
friends, all these things are considered favorable, com- 
mence music, with the resolution of becoming a proficient 
in it. Consider it as a means of improving your taste, 
and giving refinement and delicacy to your emotions. Aa 
23 XVIII. 



2M THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

a science, it has its intellectual department ; it assists, 
also, in the perfection of the physical organs, particularly 
In educating the ear to a nice discrimination of sounds, 
and may do much towards forming a correct habit of 
reading. It will be a resource in adversity ; will enable 
you to enliven domestic scenes ; and, should you be 
mothers, it will render you capable of instructing your 
children, or, at least, of knowing when they are well in- 
structed. The highest and noblest object of music is, 
to employ it in the service of our Maker. The blessed 
in heaven are represented as singing, to the accompani- 
ment of golden harps, the glories of redeeming love. It 
is melancholy, to behold a person, highly gifted with mu- 
sical talents, who has never learned to employ them in 
praise to Him, from whom man receives all his facul- 
ties. 

I am sensible, that, as yet, I have scarcely touched 
upon the main spring which, among many, causes a de- 
voted attention to music ; I allude to the anticipated 
power of dazzling, by the display of an elegant accom- 
plishment ; the hope of being the centre of a fashionable 
circle ; but, on this point, I shall not now dwell. It is 
too painful, to anticipate the evils, which result from these 
hopes and expectations, so often the ruin of females, or 
of all that is truly estimable in the female character. 

Permit me to hope, that females, whose intellectual 
powers are strengthened by discipline, whose minds are 
stored with a rich variety of knowledge, and whose morals 
are elevated by reflection and study, and, most especially. 
Christian females, may be able to repress an inordinate 
love of admiration, and to enjoy the possession of elegant 
accomplishments, unaccompanied by that restless vanity, 
which finds happiness only in display. 

Dancing. 

Madame Campan, whose judicious opinions I have pleas- 
ure in repeating, observes, — " Accomplishments should 
not form the basis of the education of girls ; but the first 
lessons, in dancing and the piano, should be given at about 
the age of seven years. Youthful limbs can place them- 



DANCING. 267 

selves, more easily, according to rules, which add to the 
graceful embellishments, and render them so natural, that 
the fruit of lessons can be no longer distinguished. It is 
also very certain, that the physical developement and 
health of children gain m.uch, where they contract, in 
good time, the habit of holding themselves up, and walk- 
ing gracefully." I am aware that dancing, in many cases, 
receives too great a share of attention ; and, what is still 
worse, that it sometimes creates and fosters vanity, and a 
love of admiration, in the youthful heart ; but this is not 
the only thing, innocent in itself, which may be abused 
and perverted. Language is often made an instrument 
of evil ; and religion itself may be used as a cloak for 
hypocrisy ; but we would not, that either language or re- 
ligion should be condemned, because they may be thus 
perverted. 

As a healthful exercise, dancing is recommended by 
most physicians. Dr. Warren, in his lecture, delivered 
at Boston, in 1830, before the American Institute of In- 
struction, remarks, that, " next to walking in the open 
air, the best exercise, for a young female, is dancing. 
This brings into action a large part of the muscles of the 
body and lower limbs, and gives them grace and power." 
To those who are engaged in study, during a large part of 
the day, some exercise, of this nature, seems absolutely 
necessary, especially in Winter, when the weather con- 
fines females within doors. 

It is for exercise, as well as for the improvement of the 
external deportment and carriage, that schoolgirls should 
be instructed in dancing. But there is a great difference 
between young ladies receiving lessons in a school, and 
practising wholly among themselves, and going to public 
balls, where young persons, of both sexes, mingle promis- 
cuously, or attending at publics, or quarterly exhibitions. 
There are certain evils, attendant on such scenes, which 
more than counterbalance all the advantages to be derived 
from learning to dance. Girls and boys, by associating 
before they have learned to behave as ladies and gentle- 
men, either acquire a familiarity of address, which is im- 
proper and disgusting, or begin to practise the arts of 



268 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

coquetry, which, ridiculous as they are, at any period, 
appear still more so, where we expect the honest sim- 
plicity of childhood. 

It is this improper manner of practising dancing, and 
the subsequent dissipation of after years, which has pre- 
judiced so many good people against an exercise which 
Nature prompts, and which the Author of Nature has 
never prohibited. Even the battle-horse is moved by the 
sound of martial music, and treads proudly to its meas- 
ures. And who, that sees a child or a young female, 
moving in harmony with sprightly music, can look mood- 
ily upon the sight, as though it were a sin against Him, 
who adapts the ear to the nice perception of sound, mak- 
ing the heart to answer in correspondent emotions, and 
giving to the muscular frame the power to express, by 
motion, the character of these sounds ? That, in itself, 
dancing is not offensive in the sight of Heaven, we may 
gather from the tenor of the Scriptures. Among the 
pious, of old, we read of dancing, as an expression of 
cheerfulness. David, in the overflowing joy of his heart, 
danced before the ark of God. Jephtha's daughter, a 
maiden of purity and innocence, went out, with music and 
dancing, to meet her father, returning from battle. Our 
Saviour Himself, in the parable of the prodigal son, in 
which the father is considered an allegorical representa- 
tive of Him, to whom we have, every day, need to say, 
*' Father ! I have sinned against" thee, represents this 
father, as having, in his house, music and dancing, on the 
occasion of the penitent's return. 

While I would rescue this exercise from the reproach 
which, I think, has been improperly attached to it, I would 
condemn, in the most decided manner, those evils which 
have been suffered to connect themselves with it. Some 
of them, I have already mentioned, in remarking upon 
promiscuous dancing-schools and public balls. I would 
observe, that another evil, connected with these, is the 
fondness for dress and display, which they usually pro- 
duce. Mothers, when their little darlings are old enough 
to go to a dancing school, are too apt to think they must 
appear very fine ; their own boxes of jewelry are search- 



DRAWING, 269 

ed, for ornaments, and their watches divested of chains, 
for the pretty necks of these miniature belles ; or, if cir- 
cumstances permit, new ornaments are purchased ; dresses 
are made, which vie with the gossamer, in lightness of 
texture; and these mimic representations of French dolls 
are sent forth, thus bedizened, to attract the envy of their 
companions, and to imbibe the moral poison, which will 
hereafter appear, in their devotion to dress, and their thirst 
for admiration. I could point out instances of females, 
whom Nature has highly favored, with beauty of person, 
talents, and most amiable dispositions, in whom the 
whole beautiful fabric is deformed, by this one taint, 
which, taking deep hold in childhood, no after exertions 
could remove. Like the blood of the murdered, which 
superstition imagined left an indelible mark, so vanity, 
when it has once deeply stained a female bosom, can 
never be washed away. But I am wrong, — there is a 
fount, in which sins may be cleansed ; and there are some, 
who imitate the conduct of the penitent Mary, 

*' When o'er the faults of former years, 
She wept, and was forgiven." 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



DRAWING. 



Drawing is the art of representing, by means of lines 
upon a flat surface, the forms of objects, and their rela- 
tive situation. This accomplishment, so conducive to 
refinement of mind, is at once useful and ornamental. 
Every gradation in the art is pleasing, from the sketch of 
a simple flower, to the grandest historical design. All 
the arts, which tend to the embellishment or comfort of 
civilized life, depend essentially on drawing. 

Painting has, for its basis, the art of drawing ; how 
much, then, do they err, who attempt to teach it to those 
who have not learned the principles on which drawing de- 
pends ! A few years since, it was not uncommon, for 
23* 



270 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

pupils, in female schools, to use paints as soon as they 
began to draw ; or, at the most, only a few sketches of 
flowers or landscapes, made without rules or principles, 
were acquired. 

In no art or science, perhaps, is genius more necessa- 
ry, than in drawing. But genius, to be successful, must 
be assisted by rules of art, and especially, by a close ob- 
servation of Nature, on which the fine arts are founded. 

Some knowledge of the principles of geometry is very 
important, for the pupil, in drawing. The practice of 
drawing geometrical figures and maps, besides its impor- 
tance, as an auxiliary in your studies, is a very useful ex- 
ercise in drawing. 

Drawing is an art, in the attainment of which, great 
industry and perseverance are necessary. The pupil 
should commence, with perpendicular and horizontal lines, 
(which are by no means so easily made as some may im- 
agine,) and proceed to curves, circles, ovals, cones, cyl- 
inders, and squares. 

After practising, until these various figures may be 
easily made, parts of buildings, as arches, columns, doors, 
and windows, maybe next attempted. Flowers and fruit 
are drawn much more easily, than figures which require 
accuracy in horizontal and perpendicular lines. Trees 
require much study ; the various forms of foliage, the di- 
rection of the branches, as pendant, erect, or horizontal, 
the nature of the bark, and the characters of the trunk, 
should all be studied from Nature. Good copies are of 
great use ; but every pupil, of taste and genius, will be led 
to the observation of natural objects. 

It is, indeed, one of the gi-eat recommendations of the 
study of drawing, that it gives a new interest to the visible 
creation, and awakens, in the mind, new sources of enjoy- 
ment. The simple wild flower, the decayed tree, the 
ruined building, and the wild cascade, all present to the 
artist, objects, which please in contemplation, and which 
he delights to copy. The various fortns and tints, which 
are reflected to the eye, from clouds, from the sky at sun- 
rise, or the pensive evening twilight, — all are poetry and 
beauty, to the soul of the painter. He regards, with at- 



DRAWING. 271 

tentlon and admiration, the pure blue sky of the zenith, 83 
it contrasts with the darker hue of the horizon, variously 
affected by the situation of the sun, and the reflection of 
its rays upon the vapors which float near the surface of 
the earth, appearing red, violet, or rose-colored. 

The imitator of Nature, beholding the distant moun- 
tains, in their faint, blue outlines, might, in the words of 
a kindred spirit, exclaim, 

*• Why do those cliffs, of shadowy tint, appear 
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near? 
'T is distance lends enchantment to the view, 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue." 

And, if a moralist, he may add, 

'*Thus, with delight, we linger to survey 
The promised, joxjs of life's unmeasured way ; 
Thus, /row afar, each dim-discovered scene 
More pleasing seems, than all the past hath been.*' 

Objects, which, to others, may be disagreeable, give 
rise to the finest productions of the artist. Wherever the 
marks of time appear, he is delighted to seize upon, and 
immortalize, the ruins. The decayed cottage, with its 
sides and roof covered with moss, or the dilapidated 
church or castle, afford more picturesque objects for the 
pencil, than the neat farm-house, or the modern edifice. 
Thus, a rustic, in ragged garments, mounted upon an old 
and lean horse, is more picturesque, and afix)rds opportu- 
nity for a more graphic delineation, than a well-dressed 
man, upon a sleek-looking pony. 

In drawing from copies, a rule and compass should not 
be used, except in measuring buildings. 

For the beginner, it is useful to draw lines across the 
copy, and the paper on which the delineation is to be 
made, marking them both into an equal number of squares ; 
thus, the objects in the squares on the copy maybe easily 
and correctly transferred. Threads, instead of lines, 
stretched across, are equally useful to the learner, and 
less injurious to the pictures. In drawing a landscape, 
from Nature, it is well to select a gentle elevation, with a 
large circumference of horizon. The scene, to he cop- 
ied, may then, in imagination, be divided by certain per- 



272 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

pendlcular lines ; these, by being marked on the paper, 
and intersected by what is termed the horizontal line, have 
the same effect, in measuring distances, as the squares, in 
the method just described. 

There can be but one point of sight, in drawing a 
landscape, or but one spot, at which the eye of the spec- 
tator is supposed to be fixed, from which, as from a point, 
all the objects must be comprehended. Sixty degrees 
of the horizon is considered as being the angle of vision ; 
that is, considering the eye as the centre of a circle, and 
the horizon its circumference. Now, you will perceive, 
that the objects nearest the eye, or on the foreground of 
the picture, must occupy much greater space, upon the 
picture, than distant objects ; of course, we can represent 
a much greater number of objects, in the distance. 

In copying a flower, from Nature, it is proper to be- 
gin with the centre, and proceed outwardly with the leaves, 
placing them one above another, in a manner correspon- 
ding to their natural arrangement. 

The drawing of the human figure is the most difficult, 
as well as the highest, department of the art. It consti- 
tutes, indeed, a distinct branch ; and it is absurd, for one 
who has painted a few landscapes or flowers, to suppose 
herself capable of execution, in this, with accuracy. 

Few young ladies attend to drawing, sufficiently, to 
become proficients in the delineation of the human fig- 
ure. When many years of undivided and close atten- 
tion are required, to form a tolerable artist, neither school- 
girls nor their teachers should be censured, if, after a 
few months' practice, the former cannot rival Raphael 
or West. 

A knowledge of geology is of use to the landscape 
painter, as it teaches the distinctive characters of rocks, 
and their modes of stratification, the characters of moun- 
tains, and of the different formations of the earth. An 
acquaintance with botany is also useful in flower-paint- 
ing ; without this, some very distinctive characteristics, of 
particular species of plants, might be disregarded in their 
delineation. A knowledge of flower-painting is also 
very important to botanists, by enabling them to make 
sketches of the various vegetable productions. 



DRAWING. 273 

Among the different modes of painting, is oil paintings 
the colors of which are the most durable, and in which the 
shades may be made to blend, in the most perfect manner. 
Mosaic painting consists in an imitation of objects, by 
means of a union of very small pieces of marble, of vari- 
ous colors, fixed in stucco, or mortar. If this is well 
executed, it will remain, to remote ages, without decay. 
Fine specimens of this, in copies of the great Italian mas- 
ters, are to be seen in St. Peter's church, at Rome. 

Fresco painting is performed with colors, diluted in 
water, and laid on a wall newly plastered, with which 
they incorporate. They are almost as durable as the 
mortar itself. 

Painting in water colors is often called limning ; it is 
performed with colors mixed with water. This is the 
kind of painting most convenient for ladies ; it can be 
performed with neatness, and without the disagreeable 
smell which attends on oil painting. The latter, however, 
possesses many advantages over the former, and should 
be studied by all who aspire to great eminence in the art. 
Pencil and India ink shading appear neat and taste- 
ful, and considerable perfection may be attained in them, 
with comparatively little study. 

Velvet J Chinese Paintings &c., are methods, by which 
handsome pictures are made ; but they are almost wholly 
mechanical operations, and neither afford evidence of ge- 
nius, nor have they a tendency to refine and elevate the 
taste, like most other departments of the art. 

Drawing is considered the elder sister of painting, as 
it is the younger of geometry. The attempt to imitate, 
by lines, upon a flat surface, the forms seen in Nature, 
was the commencement of the art of drawing. 

The Greeks had a tradition, that drawing and sculpture 
took their rise, from a young girl's drawing a shadow of 
her lover upon the w^all, wiiich her father cut out, and 
modelled in clay. In the early attempts at drawing, 
there may be distinguished several periods : — 1st. Ob- 
jects were delineated by rude, shapeless lines ; for in- 
stance, an oval represented a head. 2d. These drawings 
were colored over with black, or some other color, and 



274 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth, and hair, were marked 
with white upon the dark surface, od. An attempt was 
made to give animation to pictures, by representing the 
different colors of the drapery. It was in this way, ac- 
cording to Homer,* that Helen and Andromache em- 
broidered tapestry. 4th. Prominence and relief to ob- 
jects was commenced, by drawing lines in the back 
ground. These attempts soon showed what the power 
of the art might accomplish, and we find the Greeks, in 
the days of their glory, preeminent for their perfection 
in drawing and sculpture. The teacher of the great Apel- 
lesf required his pupils to remain with him ten years. 

The Egyptians, as appears by the figures represented 
on the walls of ancient temples and catacombs, appear to 
have made some progress in the art of drawing. These 
pictures are supposed to be hieroglyphical representa- 
tions of historical events, or mythological fictions. 

The first of the Greeks, who contended for the prize 
of painting, at the public games at Corinth and Delphi, 
was Penasnus, the cousin and pupil of Phidias, a celebra- 
ted artist. Zeuxis, and his rival Parrhasius, about three 
hundred and seventy-eight years before Christ, carried 
the art to great perfection. The latter is said to have 
excelled, in throwing into his paintings a striking expres- 
sion of grace and dignity. He became so arrogant, on 
account of his successes, that he clothed himself in pur- 
ple, wore a gold crown upon his head, and pretended to 
be a descendant of Apollo. 

Apelles connected, with a correct delineation of Na- 
ture, a highly-finished and flattering coloring, and was 
considered as a master of portrait painting. But the 
fine arts, poetry, and eloquence, sunk with the liberty 
of Greece. 

The Romans long remained indifferent to the art of 
design, and, in the height of their glory, never attained 
to Grecian perfection, in any of the fine arts. After the 

* Homer was the most ancient poet of profane history, and relates the 
story of Helen and Andromache, in his poem, called the Iliad. 

t A celebrated painter of Cos, one of the Grecian Islands, who 
flourished about three hundred and fifty years before Christ. 



DRAWING. 275 

introduction of Christianity, the art of painting seemed to 
revive, and most of its finest productions, for ages, were 
connected with the Christian faith. In the fourth century, 
the custom of placing the pictures of saints, in churches, 
extensively prevailed, both in the Eastern and Western 
Empires. Artists, stimulated both by genius and relig- 
ious zeal, strove to excel each other in the execution of 
their works. 

In the thirteenth century, the art received, in Italy, a new 
impulse, from the labors of Michael Angelo, Correggio, 
Raphael, Titian, Leonardo da Vinci, and several others, 
almost equally distinguished. 

The various artists of Europe are considered as con- 
stituting schools^ each of which has its peculiar manner, 
or style of painting. 

The Florence school is distinguished, for greatness, 
severity, and majesty. At the head of this, was Michael 
Angelo, who delighted in being great and terrible, but 
sought little aid from grace or beauty. His knowledge 
of anatomy gave him great power, in representations of 
the joints and muscles ; for which reason, he often made 
choice of emaciated figures. The monk or hermit, at- 
tenuated with the severity of his vigils and abstinence, 
but with a countenance beaming high and sublime thoughts, 
was a fit subject for his pencil. 

The Roman school had, at its head, Raphael Sanzio. 
He w^as distinguished, for his accuracy in copying Nature, 
rather than for brilliancy of imagination. It was ob- 
served, by a German artist, that, " if the Greeks sailed 
with majesty, between heaven and earth, Raphael walked 
with propriety, on the earth." 

In the Venetian school ^ Titian (whose real name was 
Taziano Vecelli) was conspicuous. This school was dis- 
tinguished, for skill in the use of colors, and for powerful 
effects, by contrasts of lights and shades. It was con- 
fined, principally, to oil paintings, while the Florence 
and Roman schools painted in water colors, or fresco. 
The Lombard school was distinguished, for grace and 
softness ; Antonio Allegri, usually called Correggio, was 
the founder and chief of this school. 



276 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

The second Lombard school was dislinguished, for 
the brothers, called the Caracci, each of whom excelled 
in particular departments of the art. 

The French school presents so many varieties of 
manner, that it is difficult to ascribe to it any prevaihng 
characteristic. Poussin, who is called the Raphael of 
France, had no pupils, and formed no school. His works 
are distinguished by an antique appearance. Le Brun 
was a painter of invention, and great power of execution. 
He studied the expression of the passions, and acquired 
much skill in their delineation. 

The German school^ like the French, consisted rath- 
er of isolated individual artists, than an assemblage, whose 
works were characterized by uniformity of manner. Al- 
bert Durer was an engraver and painter. His works, 
though numerous, were correct and finished, but not re- 
markable for taste, beauty, or subhmity. Holbein ex- 
celled, in historical and portrait painting. One of his pic- 
tures, the ' Dance of Death,' is remarkable, for a mix- 
ture of the grotesque and horrible. 

The Flemish school is said to have discovered, or, 
at least, first extensively practised, oil painting. Peter 
Paul Rubens was at the head of this school. He ex- 
celled, equally, in fruits and flowers, historical, portrait, 
and landscape, painting. He seemed to possess the 
power of embodying, with perfect ease, the sprightly and 
beautiful conceptions of a mind, rich in fancy, and glow-^ 
ing with the inspiration of genius. 

The Dutch school is peculiar, for the subjects which 
occupied the attention of its artists. The alehouse, the 
tavern, the mechanic's shop, seemed to afford the scenes 
which most delighted them, and called forth the efforts 
of their genius. This school is distinguished, for cor- 
rectness of perspective, fine representations of clouds, 
sea-scenes, animals, fruits, flowers, and insects, and ex- 
cellence in every thing, which requires faithful imitation, 
or brilliant coloring, and niceness of execution. 

Rembrant Vanryn, the son of a miller of Leyden, is 
celebrated, for his grotesque figures and low scenes, upon 
which he devoted much study and talents, — perhaps equal 
lo any of the masters of antiquity. 



DRAWING. 277 

The English school numbers many respectable artists, 
among whom is Vandyke, a pupil of Rubens. Lily, a 
portrait painter, is chiefly celebrated, for his pictures of 
females. It has been objected to him, that his faces had 
a sameness of expression, a certain air of languishing 
softness and sweetness, and the partly-closed eye, which 
seemed to reveal tenderness and sensibility. But this, 
according to a wit of that period, was more the fault of 
the females, than of the painter, who wished to please his 
employers. Hogarlh, the son-in-law of a painter, is ex- 
ceeded by no artist, in works of humor. Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds is considered the founder of the English school 
of painting ; he united science to art, and did much to- 
wards reducing to system, scattered facts and principles. 

No artist, in this school, is more celebrated, than our 
own countryman, Benjamin West, who was, for many 
years previous to his death, President of the Royal Acad- 
emy of Design, in London, and acknowledged as the 
first painter of his age. 

American artists have, in general, found in their own 
country less encouragement than abroad ; for this reason, 
and for the purpose of studying the ancient works of art, 
with which Europe is enriched, many spend their days 
abroad, and add that lustre to the arts, in foreign countries, 
which should have been secured to their own. 

There are three distinct provinces, in painting, viz., 
such as have, for their subjects, man^ the lower animals^ 
and inanimate nature. The first is termed historical 
paintings and includes, not only subjects taken from his- 
tory, but allegorical representations, and scenes from real 
hfe. This is the highest department of the art, requiring, 
in the artist, a lively conception of human passions and 
their various external appearances, a knowledge of anat- 
omy, comprehending not only the joints, but the muscles 
of the body, and the almost infinite variety of expression 
which may be produced by their changes. Thus, the 
contraction of two small muscles, in the upper lip, causes 
a look of contempt ; while, nearer the cheeks, the ex- 
pansion of two other small muscles, and the contraction 
of the corresponding ones, give an expression of com- 
24 xviii. 



278 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

placency and condescension. The historical painter must 
not only understand, and be able to express, the effect of 
the different passions upon the countenance, but is re- 
quired to dehneate, with accuracy, the humblest member 
of the body. A bad hand, or even a disproportioned 
finger, is sufficient to mar the beauty of the finest picture. 
Especially must the painter be able to group his figures 
in a picturesque manner, so that the tout ensemble* shall 
make a striking and agreeable impression. In order to 
produce this effect, he must first have the conception, in 
bis own mind. Chateaubriand says, " the universe is the 
imagination of God, rendered sensible. "^^ The painter, 
though not possessing power to bring into real existence, 
or to give life to, the images in his mind, can, by means 
of the canvass, transfer them to the minds of others. 
Hogarth was peculiar, for the power of retaining, in his 
mind's eye, the various living scenes which passed be- 
fore him, preferring to copy from these pictures, (and tax- 
ing his memory with retaining them,) rather than the dry 
rules of his art. 

The painting of animals^ although considered distinct 
from landscape painting, is yet intimately connected with 
it ; as landscapes are, in general, rendered more interest- 
ing, by the introduction of living beings, as cattle grazing, 
or flocks reposing. Landscape painting admits of hu- 
man figures, as seen at a distance ; but the character of 
such paintings is lost, by giving to figures too in)portant 
a place. Rocks, ground, foliage, buildings, sky, and wa- 
ter, allow to the landscape painter a wide scope in color- 
ing. Every true painter will possess his own style of 
coloring, as much as every author of genius, his own style 
of writing ; and it is as impossible, for such a painter to 
convey his art to another, as for the writer to transfer his 
own power of expression. 

Genius has never failed to command respect, even 
among the rudest people, and in the most uncultivated state 
of society. Henry Vlll., of England, a vain and licen- 
tious king, was proud of patronizing Hans Holbein, a dis- 

♦ View taken all together. 



DRAWING. 279 

tinguished painter of the German school. The artist was, 
one day, deeply engaged, in finishing a work for the king, 
and being interrupted, by the entrance of a great lord of 
the court, very unceremoniously turned him out of his 
room. The courtier, on making complaint to his ma- 
jesty of the impudence of the painter, received the fol- 
lowing answer, — "Of seven peasants, I can make as many 
lords ; but God, only, can make a Hans Holbein.'' 

We have already remarked, that females do not often 
pay sufficient attention to the art, to excel in historical 
painting. There are some ladies in our country, who, 
by their copies of eminent paintings, have discovered a 
high degree of talent ; and, could they have the oppor- 
tunity of travelling for improvement, of devoting years to 
the study of the first works, and in the society of distin- 
guished artists, their names might hereafter be enrolled 
among those who have gained, by the productions of the 
pencil, a name for future ages. But there are many 
causes to prevent females from aspiring to eminence in 
the fine arts, among which, may be mentioned their phy- 
sical constitutions. Few possess sufficient firmness of 
health, to endure years of such unremitting labor, as are 
requisite to form the artist. Angelica Kauffiiian became 
celebrated, for her admirable productions, even in Italy, 
the land of painters. On going to England, she received 
the most flattering attentions, was invited to paint the 
whole royal family, and was made a member of the Royal 
Academy of the Fine Arts. It was here, also, that she 
became the victim of a most cruel revenge. An English 
artist, having been rejected by Mademoiselle Kauffman, 
selected a dissolute footman, of a handsome person and 
insinuating manners, whom he very richly dressed, and 
caused to be introduced to her as Count Horn, a noble- 
man of distinction. A foreigner, and imperfectly under- 
standing the language and manners of the country, she 
became the dupe of this artifice, which was triumphantly 
disclosed, after she had become the wife of the pretended 
Count. She easily obtained a divorce ; but allowed an 
annuity to the wretch, who had lent himself to so base a 
plot. She died, in Rome, in 1807, leaving a large for- 



280 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

tune to charitable institutions. Angelica Kauffman vvasi 
highly esteemed by Dr. Johnson, and other distinguished 
literary men, as well as by the first artists of the day ; 
and formed one of the most brilliant ornaments of a cote- 
rie of ladies, with whom such men were proud to asso- 
ciate. Among these ladies, was a Miss Moser, distin- 
guished for the beauty and delicacy of her flower-painting, 
and who was also a member of the Royal Academy. 
These are almost solitary instances, of females being pub- 
licly recognised as artists. 

Mrs. Damer, an English lady, of high descent, of dis- 
tinguished beauty and grace, and the star of the fashiona- 
ble world, became suddenly the votary of the fine arts, 
especially sculpture. The following is the account, given 
of the trifling circumstance which first caused her devo- 
tion to this art. When not over twenty years old, as she 
was walking with the historian, David Hume, a little Ital- 
ian desired them to look at some plaster figures. Mr* 
Hume good-naturedly examined and praised them, giving 
the boy a trifle for his encouragement. His fair compan- 
ion, afterwards, satirically related this, in company, with 
an intimation that a grave philosopher might better oc- 
cupy his time, than in attention to paltry plaster images. 
Hume gravely replied, " those images, young lady, were 
not made without the aid of both science and genius ; with 
all your attainments, you cannot produce such works." 
Thus challenged, she privately procured modelling tools, 
and, in a few days, presented to her monitor a head, mould- 
ed in wax. " This," said he, "is clever. You have 
found it no easy task ; but it is much easier to model in 
wax, than carve in marble." With a resolution, which 
always attends those who make great attainments, she 
procured marble, and the proper tools, and, with great 
ingenuity, copied the bust which she had made in wax. 
Soon after this, the public learned, with astonishment, 
that Mrs. Damer, the only and beautiful daughter of Mar- 
shal Conway, had forsaken the circles of fashion, banish- 
ed from her mind all pretension on the score of high 
birth, and was resolutely seeking to distinguish herself, 
by what she felt to be the only true nobility, works of 



DRAWING. 281 

genius. She was now to be seen, in a close cap, to keep 
the dust from her hair, and a long apron, to preserve her 
damask gown and satin slippers, working in wet clay, or 
with an iron hammer in one hand, and a steel chisel in 
the other, cunningly carving heads in marble. Ahhough 
we cannot but admire the energy and enthusiasm of this 
lady, we still feel, that she stepped out of the legitimate 
province of woman. And, with all her efforts and perse- 
verance, she did not attain the rank even of a second-rate 
artist. Had the same talents and industry been employ- 
ed, in some manner more suitable to the delicacy of her 
frame and the duties of her station, how much might she 
have benefitted and improved the world ! 

We have now considered the various branches, includ- 
ed in a liberal course of female education. We have 
seen, that the great object to be had in view is, not to 
form beings to dazzle the world with a glittering and tran- 
sient splendor, but to give to society women, with minds 
strengthened and prepared for the various duties of hfe, 
and capable of appreciating, and rightly directing, their 
influence. 

The sphere of woman's duty is, in most cases, con- 
fined to private and domestic life ; and although she may, 
and ought to, do all in her power to elevate, refine, and 
embellish, whatever hes within her own circle, she should 
be cautious of suffering her desires to extend beyond it. 
If genius, circumstance of fortune, — I might better say, 
the providence of God, — assign to her a' more public and 
conspicuous station, she ought cheerfully to do all that her 
own powers, aided by the blessing of God, can achieve ; 
and, as far as human feelings will allow, act fearlessly of 
human censure, looking to a higher tribunal, for the re- 
ward of her labors. 



24* 



PART V. 

TEACHING AND TEACHERS. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



PROFESSION OF TEACHING. 



While those, who are looking forward to a future 
station as teachers, may be interested by a consideration 
of their duties, and the requisite qualifications for their 
performance ; it is to be presumed, that all young persons 
may be disposed to consider, with attention, a profession 
which might bs a resource to them, under future vicissi- 
tudes of fortune. 

You will observe, that I use the term profession. 
Teaching is, indeed, at the present day, considered as a 
profession, and a dignified and noble one. A path has 
been opened, for females of energy and talents, in which 
they may walk independently, and without feeling that 
they are cast out from the pale of good society, because 
they are useful to the world. 

In our country, the time indeed has never been, when 
women of acknowledged talents and refinements were 
excluded from any circle, because they were instructers ; 
but yet, there has been a kind of side-way obloquy attach- 
ed to the calling. Those, who were engaged in it, have 
been too frequently obliged to assert their rights, and to 
claim that place, which respect and gratitude would have 
voluntarily awarded to them. In this, they have been 
obliged to do violence to that delicacy, which always ac- 
companies true worth ; and they doubtless would much 



PROFESSION OF TEACHING. 283 

rather have retired into obscurity, than have encountered 
the cold and supercilious glances of those, who are unable 
to see, in the qualities of intellect, merit superior to the 
advantages of wealth. But there is a feeling in conscious 
worth, which seems to demand justice, and which will 
seek its own level, whatever may be the opposing obsta- 
cles. Many, who have seemed aspiring and haughty, 
when the world has refused them justice, have, under 
more auspicious circumstances, appeared unostentatious 
and amiable. 

At present, however, there is no cause of complaint 
against public sentiment, as it relates to the estimation in 
which the profession of teaching is held. Among the 
first w'omen of our country, first in the most distinguished 
circles, first in the religious and benevolent societies, first 
in Sunday schools, and first in domestic duties, are to be 
found teachers, or those who have been such ; and of all 
that they have done in life, nothing, probably, affords 
them more satisfaction, than the consciousness, that they 
were useful in that profession, and that many a young 
heart cherishes their memory with gratitude and affection. 

In many of our distinguished female institutions, young 
ladies, of fortune and high expectations, have esteemed it 
an honor to serve as teachers, for the improvement which 
the situation afforded to themselves. Mrs. Sigourney, 
in her letters to young ladies, says, — "^ I have ho hesitation 
in pronouncing the labor of instruction more beneficial 
to the teacher, than even to the pupil. If q. young lady, 
when her term of school education is completed, should 
devote a period to the instruction of others, she would 
find the advantage on her own side, not only in the depth, 
confirmation, and readiness for use, which would enhance 
the value of her knowledge, but in that acquaintance with 
human nature, self-command, and re-action of moral train- 
ing upon herself, which is above all price." 

Every thing, at the present day, favors female exertion. 
Fashion herself dares no longer to attempt branding with 
the epithet of vulgar, the woman who would volunteer to 
watch the dawning of youthful intellect, to subdue and 
direct the opening passions, and to give an upward aim to 



284 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the energies of immortal minds. Even in the most fash- 
ionable resorts, should such a one, perchance, seek recre- 
atioip, where crowds find the business of life, a respectful 
deference will mark her approach, and folly itself learn 
to be abashed in her presence. 

But at the shrine of fashion, a Avornan, such as I have 
imagined, seldom offers incense ; nor are its votaries 
those, with whom she most delights to hold converse. 
Intellect is the strong cord, which binds together human 
hearts ; and to those of similar tastes, similar pursuits, 
and similar cultivation, do the enlightened cling, with their 
warmest affections. 

I would not be understood as intimating, that the pro- 
fession of a teacher is the only useful and dignified calling 
of a woman, or that being prepared for it is to preclude 
her from hereafter exchanging the duties of a school for 
those of the domestic circle. But it is of great inipor- 
tance to our sex, that they sliall be secured against the 
sad necessity, of marrying for the sake of a maintenance. 
And, without some profession or business, how can it, in 
many cases, be otherwise ? Indeed, who is certain of al- 
ways possessing wealth, or of having friends, able and 
\villing to impart the means of support ? In our country, 
it is especially the case, that families are often supported, 
genteelly, from the avails of a profession, or mercantile or 
other business, with litde or no actual estate. Suppose 
the father of a family of daughters, that is thus circum- 
stanced, — hs,is now able to educate them, and to sustain 
them, genteelly, in society; but his life is uncertain. How 
painful to him must be the thought, that their future sup- 
port rests upon the uncertain chance of an advantageous 
marriage ! How undignified and mortifying, the situation, 
to the females themselves ! How does it expose them to 
pert and unmeaning attentions, from unprincipled men, 
who can turn away, and sneer at the delusive expectations 
which they have raised, with no intentions but to dis- 
appoint ! 

And yet, there have been those, who have felt that it 
would be lowering them in the estimation of the world, 
if they were to prepare themselves to enter upon a busi- 



PROFESSION OF TEACHING. 286 

ness, wliicli would give tliem an honorable and genteel 
support, and, at the same time, enable them to be use- 
ful to others. x\ lady, whose early days were spent in 
prosperity, and under circumstances highly favorable for 
the attainment of an accomplished education, met with 
a reverse of fortune. Pier father lost a lucrative office, 
and was ruined by hazardous and disgraceful speculation. 
For a time, some former friends continued attentive ; but, 
by degrees, even those became wearied of assisting one, 
who seemed to have no idea of helping herself. At 
length, the necessities of the lady excited the interest of 
some, who were judicious enough to attempt permanent 
means for her relief. They obtained for her a very ad- 
vantageous offer of a situation, as teacher, in a highly 
respectable female school. Her answer was, that she 
should be happy to accept the offer, but that, by so doing, 
she should lose her place in society ! and this, while she 
was living a useless life, wholly dependent upon charity ! 

But suppose a lady, whom wealth places out of the 
reach of want. Peculiar circumstances, or her own 
choice, may cause her to lead a single life. The friends 
of her youth, one after another, pass away, or are estab- 
lished in families of their own. Her parents are no more; 
brothers and sisters have families of their own ; and she 
feels, that her seat, at their board and fireside, is rather 
endured than desired by them. Would not an active and 
useful employment be more honorable for this female, 
than an empty round of pleasures, — pleasures for which 
she has lost her relish, and in v*^hich she appears as a 
monument of antiquity, continually mortified by meeting 
with those who, younger and fairer than herself, are, of 
course, more noticed and admired ? 

There are, indeed, other resources, than those o^ 
teaching, for ladies of fortune, who remain single. Some 
employ themselves in works of charity and benevolence, 
some in literary occupations ; and there are others, who 
know so well how to adapt themselves to every situation, 
that their society is courted in all circles and they may 
pass a life of pleasure, with tolerable comfort and respec- 
tability. 



286 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

In this countiy, whatever the wealth of a family may 
be, it is customary for the sons to qualify themselves for 
business of some kind. A young gentleman, who pro- 
fessedly devotes himself to pleasure, and lives without any 
ostensible occupation, is looked upon, in our busy Repub- 
lic, as a useless drone in the hive. He may expect to 
live unknown, and die unregretted, by the world. No 
young man of talents and virtue, although heir to count- 
less wealth, would wish thus to live, without end and aim, 
save the culling of the flowers that pleasure may drop 
into his lap. Why, then, should our sex be contented to 
live in idleness, useless to the world, and a burden to 
themselves .'' Why should not every female, whatever 
may be her rank or fortune, aim at something definite, 
something noble, and fit to occupy the energies of the 
soul .'' But look at the lives of many, and what do we 
see ? An existence spent in the vain pursuit of that 
happiness, which, though it flies from such as make it the 
chief object of pursuit, often follows in the train of those 
who are chiefly intent on being good and useful. Hap- 
piness is an attendant upon occupation, though often deaf 
to the call of amusement. 

The profession of teaching is, then, one which is open 
to those of our sex, who are disposed to gain for them- 
selves an honorable standing and support, to be useful to 
the world, and to cultivate the talents which God has 
given them. There are three leading motives, which may 
influence the minds of those who become teachers. In 
different individuals, some one may preponderate ; but, in 
some cases, all may have their influence. 

There are females, who, without mercy or favor to 
themselves, follow a system of self-devotion, apparently 
from no other motive, than that of doing the world ser- 
vice, counting nothing on their reward, nothing on the 
good which may accrue to themselves : they seem to be 
engaged in a crusade against ignorance and vice, from 
the most enthusiastic and disinterested motives. 

Others there are, that, overlooking its solemn respon- 
sibilities and momentous duties, seem to regard their pro- 
fession solely as a source of profit. 



QUALIFICATIONS OF TEACHERS. 2S7 

A third class, aspiring to a high standard of mental im- 
provement, choose teaching, as one of the best methods 
of crtllivating their own minds, without considering, suffi- 
ciently, tlieir qualifications for the office, or how far they 
may be able to benefit others. 

It is certainly noble, to be willing to sacrifice ourselves, 
when we are called upon by Providence to do it ; but 
those who, unnecessarily, sacrifice their own interests, 
endanger their own healths, and give up their own com- 
forts, fail in duty to themselves, and, in so doing, com- 
mit sin. 

On the other hand, a teacher, influenced wholly by 
mercenary views, will not be likely to prosper in the un- 
dertaking, or to fulfil her duties in their proper spirit. 

The selfishness, which prompts merely to the wish for 
one's own improvement, without regard to the necessary 
qualifications for discharging duties, is by no means to be 
encouraged. If circumstances make it necessary that a 
female should support herself, she is justified in fixing on 
the profession, with this view, provided she be suitably 
impressed w^ith the desire of being useful to others, and 
never allow selfishness to weigh against the real good of 
those committed to her charge. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

QUALIFICATIONS OF TEACHERS. 

We will now consider some of the qualifications of a 
teacher. 

1 . The power and habit of self-government may be 
named, as a most important requisite, in one who is to 
govern others. It is impossible to preserve dignity and 
consistency of character, without it. Pupils, who see a 
teacher subject to storms of passion, will neither love nor 
respect her. A calm, collected, dignified manner will 
always command deference and obedience. The prov- 
erb, " Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry," is, in no sit- 



288 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

nation, of greater practical importance, than that of a 
teacher. But, while the passions are kept in clue subjec- 
tion, a firm and decided spirit must be seen ; a disposi- 
tion to enforce suitable rules, and to execute justice, with- 
out fear or favor. A teacher, who attempts to govern 
wholly by mildness and a gentle demeanor, will fail of the 
object. I have seen such a one weeping, in the midst of 
a mischievous little group, because they " would not mind 
her." The effect of this, on the little urchins themselves, 
was only to show them their own power, and the weak- 
ness of the authority over them. This is the kind of gov- 
ernment which some mothers exercise, who, instead of 
enforcing obedience, by a dignified authority, feebly ex- 
postulate, "Why, children, how can you so trouble your 
mamma ?" I do not mean, that children have not tender 
feelings, which may often be operated upon, to great ad- 
vantage, in governing them ; but they must first respect, 
before they will love, their teachers ; and, when they see 
them infirm of purpose, and feeble in authority, they are 
usually disposed to tease and harass them. When they 
have been made to feel, that there is a strong and ener- 
getic power over them, they will then feel grateful when 
silken cords are thrown out to them ; and when they see 
authority, they will respect kindness. 

2. Decision, though involved in what I have remarked, 
under the preceding head, deserves a separate considera- 
tion. Every rule should be well weighed, before it is pro- 
mulgated ; but, wdien once established, should never be 
violated with impunity. Every attempt at insubordination 
ought to be crushed, in embryo ; for, if a teacher is once 
defeated, or hsr authority put down, she can expect little 
obedience. 

3. An amiable disposition is of great importance, in 
one, whose highest duty is, to cultivate social affections, 
and to repress the dissocial ones. Example is here al- 
ways better than precept ; indeed, the latter, unsupported 
by the former, is worse than useless. 

4. Patience is constantly demanded of the faithful and 
conscientious teacher ; patience, to bear with that dul- 
ness, which requires instruction to be reiterated, day after 



QUALIFICATIONS OF TEACHERS. 2S9 

day, wllh little seeming effect ; patience, to bear with 
moral delinquencies, and to suffer ingratitude from pupils 
and parents ; and, above all, patience with herself. When 
reviewing lier own failings, of judgement or temper, she 
must patiently renew her daily trial, in hope to improve 
herself, as well as others. 

5. A firm and uncleviating integrity is an indispen- 
sable qualification ; the more brilliant the accomplish- 
ments, or commanding the talents, of a teacher, destitute 
of this, the greater injury may the morals of her j)upil3 
sustain, through her example. Small as her influence 
might be among them, still, the injury might be incalcu- 
lable to the young mind, who should associate, with the 
idea of an honorable station and high endowments, a want 
of moral rectitude. 

6. Piety is certainly very desirable in a teacher ; it 
would, however, be illiberal, to wish to exclude all from 
the profession, who are not avowedly pious. Such an ex- 
clusion might be an encouragement to presumption or hy- 
pocrisy, on the one hand, and might cut off the services 
of many, who are capable of being highly useful. Indeed, 
those who are not decidedly religious often become so, on 
feeling their responsibilities, as guides to those who are 
destined to an immortal existence ; they are led to reflect 
on the real destiny of man, and finally perceive, that one 
thing is needful. Besides, in giving mortals instruction, 
they must go beyond this world, for their strongest and 
most powerful motives to virtue. They find the Bible 
to be their only sure standard of morality, and that, with- 
out a belief in its precepts, the young heart will be litde 
influenced, by any appeals which may be made to its 
moral feelings. 1 can scarcely conceive, then, that any 
teacher, except one who is absolutely steeled against re- 
ligious principles, by the armor of skepticism, will not, in 
due time, yield her heart to the influences of religion. A 
truly pious instructor gains an influence over the minds of 
her pupils, which can be acquired by no other person. 
Seeing that her thoughts and aims are heavenward, they 
look up to her as one, whom it will be safe to follow, and 
whom they should learn to imitate. They perceive, in 

23 XVIII. 



290 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

her devotion to her duties, a higher motive than mercen- 
ary gain, or human applause ; and learn, that, though their 
disrepect or misconduct may grieve her, yet, as she looks 
not to this world, for her own reward, so the things of 
this world cannot have the power greatly to disturb her 
tranquillity. 

7. With respect to the literary attainments of teach- 
ers, these should be appropriate to the situations to be 
filled. While there is scarcely any branch of knowledge, 
that may not, at some future time, be found useful, in 
every branch of the profession, there are many, which are 
not indispensable. There are instructors needed in va- 
rious departments, from the teacher of the infant and dis- 
trict schools, to the principal of a large institution, where 
young ladies are to complete their education, and to be 
fitted for teaching others, or for conducting themselves 
properly on the stage of life, whatever situation they may 
be called to fill. 

But who can suppose, that, to manage children proper- 
ly does not require talents, and a knowledge of the pro- 
pensities and moving principles of the human soul ? Who 
can suppose, that the finest moral qualities are not essen- 
tial in us, who must be subjected to the continual vexa- 
tions and trials, incident to the care and instruction of an 
infant or children's school ! And yet, the rich are often 
far less liberal, toward the teachers of their children, than 
toward their tailors or nn'lllners ; are often less anxious 
to secure good instructers for them, than to obtain a good 
cook or waiting maid. A young lady, of talents and re- 
finement, was induced, by straitened circumstances, to 
open a school for children. After some months, she 
called upon a fashionable lady with her bill, for the tui- 
tion of a pert and troublesome little girl. The terms were 
very moderate ; but the lady, on looking at the bill, ex- 
pressed her surprise, that no deduction had been m.ade 
for days and half-days of her child's absence ; and, after 
some complaints, that she had not learned as much as she 
expected, &c., concluded, by saying, very coldly, that it 
was not at that time convenient for her to pay the bill, and 
requested the teacher to call at some other time. From 



QUALIFICATIONS OF TEACHERS. 291' 

the alternate changes of her complexion, and the tear 
which trembled in the young lady's eye, I inferred, that 
she would not be very likely again to subject herself to 
the same insult ; and the lady of fashion, very probably, 
saved herself the payment of the bill, and doubtless ex- 
pended the money in some manner less vulgar, than for 
the instruction of her child. Another lady had taken 
her child out of a school, because the teacher had pre- 
sumed to punish her, " for no other reason, than for pul- 
hng a butterfly to pieces, and telling a lie about it." There 
are, in fact, no class of beings, who so much deserve the 
name of martyrs, as the teachers of children's schools ; 
and, much as public sentiment has improved, in respect 
to education, there is yet room for still greater improve- 
ment. Young ladies of talents are not willing to sacri- 
fice themselves to the tedious, monotonous task, of in- 
structing children, without an adequate compensation, and 
a prospect of some gratitude and attention, from the pa- 
rents for whom they labor. Such females, therefore, are 
pressing forward to prepare themselves for the higher de- 
partment of teaching, where the labor is less, the remu- 
neration far greater, and the station more honorable. 
When consulted, by ladies eminently quahfied for useful- 
ness, as instructers of children, with respect to the expe- 
diency of their recommencing their own education, with 
a view to a more elevated station as teachers, I have 
sometimes hesitated, between regard for the good of the 
individual, and that of the public. I knew, that the same 
abilities, which had enabled them to teach children suc- 
cessfully, would, with proper culture, give them eminence 
in a higher sphere, and that there is an increasing demand 
for teacliers, in the higher departments of education ; but 
experienced and qualified teachers are not the less needed 
in the primary department, where the foundation of edu- 
cation is to be laid, and beyond which, many never have 
the advantages of rising. If every female, as soon as she 
perceives in herself talents for teaching, should abandon 
the primary department, how will the children be properly 
instructed ? And yet, who is bound, if better prospects 
appear, to the self-sacrifice, necessary in devoting her- 



292 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

self to primary instruction, to tlie wear and tear of health 
and spirits, to ingratitude and neglect, and the bare means 
of subsistence ? Self-preservation is a law of Nature ; 
and, in ordinary cases, all are bound to look for such sit- 
uations, as will most promote their health and happiness, 
at the same time making the good of others a considera- 
tion. It is to be hoped, the time is not distant, when pub- 
lic attention will be roused to the importance of offering 
suitable inducements to those who are qualified for the 
office of teachers of primary schools. 

Every teacher of a primary school ought to understand 
well the principles of the English language, its rules for 
orthography and pronunciation, its etymology and syntax; 
for, as reading and spelling are here the main points, it 
is highly important, that they should be properly taught. 
Arithmetic and geography may be here commenced, and 
the first instruction, in these sciences, should be clear and 
simple ; for, if false impressions are given, at the outset, 
the mind receives a serious injury. Writing is often very 
badly taught in primary schools ; many teachers having 
neither system nor practice ; it would be better for pu- 
pils not to begin at all, than to commence under such dis- 
advantages. Some knowledge of botany, geology, chem- 
istry, and the principles of natural philosophy, are of great 
use, even to teachers of children, as it enables them to 
give variety and novelty to their instructions, and assists 
them, in rousing the intellectual powers, by directing them 
to the study of natural objects. 

To those, who are aiming to qualify themselves for 
the higher departments of teaching, an acquaintance with 
all the branches treated of in this work, under the head 
of intellectual improvement and accomplishments, would 
be desirable. It should not, however, be required or 
expected, that a teacher shall be familiar with the whole 
circle of the sciences and belles lettres ; and, as the prin- 
ciple of the division of labor is belter appreciated, and 
more generally applied, there will be still less necessity 
for one person to attempt to qualify herself for instructing 
in every thing. Some have a peculiar talent for the ac- 
quisition of languages ; some, for the mathematics ; oth- 



QUALIFICATIONS OF TEACHERS 293 

ers, for the natural sciences ; while, in some, a talent for 
music or drawing is preeminent. When, therefore, the 
grounchvork of an Enghsh education is laid, it would be 
well to follow Nature, in pursuing those studies, to which 
the mind seems most strongly inclined, and thus excel- 
lence, in some one branch, may be attained. A young 
person, thus qualified, may be also certain of finding an 
advantageous situation, as an assistant in a public institu- 
tion, or in private education, though an exclusive cultiva- 
tion of a particular talent would not fit her for the general 
superintendence of a school. 

But no accomplishments, literary attainments, or moral 
worth, can insure success in education, without that tact, 
which will enable the teacher to comprehend the charac- 
ters of her pupils, to gain their affection, and to control 
and influence their prejudices and prepossessions. This 
is not the work of a day, or a month ; indeed, those 
teachers, who ultimately gain the greatest ascendency 
over their pupils, may, for a time, seem to have made 
little progress towards this end, while more superficial 
persons, by assuming, at first, an appearance of great soft- 
ness of manner, by caressing and patting the little dears, 
may be admired as very lovely^ very amiable, teach- 
ers. But young persons are not slow in detecting any at- 
tempt at deception ; they soon learn to consider all this 
fondness as a sort of mannerism, assumed merely for ef- 
fect ; and, whenever they get such an impression, they 
give those, who have the charge of them, little credit for 
any sincerity. A person of good judgement will not, 
then, begin with her pupils, by flattery or caresses ; she 
will endeavor to define their duties with precision, and 
will seek, at first, to inspire respect, rather than love ; 
knowing that, the former once secured, the latter will ea- 
sily follow. 

In the examples, which I have given, of the mode of 
commencing the duties of a teacher, we perceive, in the 
one, the superstructure begun, before the fx)undation was 
laid ; of course it must fall : in the other case, a broad and 
firm base is established, and, upon this may be raised 
a structure, in which discipline, confidence, and aflection, 
25* 



294 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

will all be combined in beautiful barmony and propor- 
tions. 

Power involves duty ; and, in no case is tbis truth 
more applicable, tban in tbat of a teacher, who, vested 
for the time, with unlimited authority, is yet deeply re- 
sponsible for the use of it. Possessing vast infiuence 
over the young mind, how much has the teacher to an- 
swer for, if this influence is improperly exercised ! To 
parents, to the public, to their own consciences, and to 
God, are teachers accountable for the proper discharge 
of their duties. Let none, therefore, lightly esteem the 
qualifications for such an office ; let none engage in it, but 
such as are willing to submit to trials, vexations, and self- 
sacrifices, and who, counting not on the gratitude of man, 
^an look beyond this world, for the reward of their labors. 



PART VI. 

DOMESTIC HABITS. — MORAL AND RELIG 
OUS EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

PERSONAL ACTIVITY IN DOMESTIC DUTIES. DOMESTIC 

ECONOMY. 

The home-fireside is the best place, at which to learn 
domestic economy, and to gain those domestic habits, 
which are absolutely necessary to woman. But a female 
has some opportunity, in every situation, of making ob- 
servation and improvement in iliis art. If she be a board- 
er, she should notice the arrangements of the domestic af- 
fairs of the family in which she lives, so far as these 
come under her view ; and she may, in such a situation, 
judge very advantageously with regai'd to the general ef- 
fei.'-ts of particular models of housekeeping. One diffi- 
culty, widi those who engage in details of housewifery, is, 
that they are in danger of losing sight of general effects, 
which are of the first imporlance. Thus, a young lady, 
who has occupied herself particularly in the preparation 
of some one dish, or the making of some kind of cake or 
sweetmeat, is often more anxious to know how this will 
please, than respecting the impression which maybe made 
on visiters, by the general arrangements of the table. It 
is a great mistake, for a girl lo supj)ose tha-t, because she 
can make plum-pudding, pound-cake, or pies, she is fit to 
keep house. And it may be fairly presumed, when we 
hear niamma boasting, that the cake or the pudding, on 



296 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

the table, was made by Miss, that the latter is not in the 
habit of doing these things ; for what is done habitually 
is not, by the performers themselves, supposed to be won- 
derful. 

The best housekeeping is that which is carried on with 
the least noise and bustle. But, unfortunately, mothers, 
who are themselves good housekeepers, too often suf- 
fer their daughters to grow up, in ignorance of domes- 
tic economy, or domestic management. The daugh- 
ter, accustomed to seeing everything around her move in 
harmony, and not being called on to take a share in the 
family burdens, forgets that she ought not to suffer her 
mother to be overcharged with cares, from which she 
might relieve her. Though, perhaps, an amiable and con- 
scientious girl, she acquires the habit of seeing her mother 
incessantly engaged in domestic duties, without any com- 
punctions for her own deficiency. Now, the mother is, 
in the first place, to be blamed, for thus bringing up her 
daughter. But the latter, when old enough to reflect, 
sliould make haste to repair, by her own voluntary efforts, 
the evils of this wrong education. She should, at what- 
ever sacrifice of taste, inclination, or love of ease, make 
herself a sharer of her mother's toils. But it is truly un- 
fortunate, when a young girl is obliged to make an effort 
to move about house, and needs, for this puipose, to be 
urged forward by the admonitions of conscience. It 
would be well, if all mothers could realize this, in season, 
and be led to insist on personal activity, until it sliall have 
become a habit, so that the young lady will do. with cheer- 
fulness and activity, what the child has been in the habit 
of performing. 

What must we think of a daughter, who will suffer her 
mother to rise in tlie morning, and undergo toils in the 
preparation of the family meal, while she is indolently re- 
posing on her pillow, making her ai)pearance only when 
caUetl to her breakfast ! Such a young lady will very 
likely be disposed to complain of the discomforts of ilie 
house. The room, whicii her fatigued mother finds, after 
exercise, sufficiently warm, is too cold for her ; she won- 
ders ^' the servants can't keep better fires," and perhaps 



ACTIVITY IN DOMESTIC DUTIES. 297 

recommends llie dismissal of some faithful domestic, on 
whose sympathies and services the mother can depend, 
much more than upon those of her unreasonable child. 

The habit of active exertion is of vast importance to 
one's own happiness, as well as usefulness, in the world. 
To one, who sits much, and needs to be ministered toby 
others, every slight inconvenience becomes an almost in- 
supportable evil ; the misplacing of an article, a trifling 
noise, a door left ajar, the fire suflered to get low, all are 
occasions of com])laint and unhappiness. It is bad enough, 
that old age should bring with it this tendency to sit and 
watch the delinqucnces of others ; but let the young be 
careful how they indulge in such propensities. 

It is enough for domestics, that they be subject to a 
master and mistress ; the young people of a family, in our 
republican country, should learn to wait on themselves, 
and avoid assuming authority over fi-ee men and women, 
who are seldom disposed to submit to it, from such a 
source. 

Should these pages fall into the hands of a mother, who 
has a vouns daughter to educate, let me caution her 
against that tender indulgence, which would excuse her 
child from active exertion ; let me advise her to require a 
regular and daily performance of certain duties, such as the 
care of her own apartment, dusting furniture, or, if neces- 
sary, sweeping the house, setting and clearing away tables, 
washing cups and glasses, and ironing ; and, when of suit- 
able age, clear-starching, assisting in the washing, and the 
various culinary preparations, — especially the making of 
bread and biscuit. There are times, in which every mis- 
tress of a family, in this country, has need of the knowl- 
edge of all these, and an almost infinite variety of other 
particulars, to fail in the slightest of which may disar- 
range the domestic machinery, and subject her to the im- 
putation of being a bad housekeei)er. 

Th3re is, ])erhaps, a difficulty, during the period of 
school education, in acquiring, at the same time, domestic 
habits. But, if the young girl is accustomed to take 
charge of her own apartment and wardrobe, and train- 
ed to active exercise, habits of care and industry may 



298 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

be acquired, wliicb Avill prove of great advantage, in af- 
terlife, and render her a syslematic and careful house- 
keeper.* 

Young ladies, on returning home, after having complet- 
ed their school education, should consider, that they are 
now to begin, in earnest, to repay.lheir parents for the 
care and expense which they have, for so many years, 
been bestowing upon them, without any return. But how 
often are the fond hopes of parents disappointed ! A 
daughter, whose return to the domestic fireside has been 
anxiously awaited, comes not always to minister to its 
comfort and happiness, but to interrupt its quiet ; to plant 
thorns, where she should have strown flowers. She, 
perhaps, foolishly imagines that her period of real enjoy- 
ment is now to begin. Her mother must undergo new 
toils, to establish her pretensions in fashionable society ; 
and her fathe]-'s purse must be subjected to new demands, 
to supply her extravagance. Invitations must, in her 
opinion, be always accepted, no matter how her parents 
may judge on tiie subject. Her holyday of life is begun, 
and serious duties, or prudent restraints, are the occasions 
of unpleasant altercations, of bitter tears, or hysterical dis- 
tress. Oh ! my young reader, who dost now bend thine 
eye upon this page, art thou willing to requite, thus, those 
who have watched over thine infiincy ? who have expe- 
rienced bitter cares, that thou mightest be happy ? and 
who have looked forward to the time, when thou wouldst 
be qualified to be a sympathizing friend, and an eflicient 
assistant ? If thou hast been neglectful, return at once 
to duty ; throw aside those habits of indolence, that vain 
and wicked pursuit of pleasure, which is leading thee 
astray, and bligluing the fond hopes of thy disappoint- 
ed parents. Let the active pursuits of domestic life 
become interesting to thee, since they will render thee 
useful to those who love thee best, and fit thee to be, 
thyself, a mother, the mistress of a household, and the 
dispenser of good to others. 

* The author, in her newly-established Female Institute, at Rah- 
way. New Jersey, pursues this plan, in order to promote the domestic 
habits of the pupils. 



DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 299 

Domestic Economy. 

Domeslic economy is an important study for females. 
It teaches how to make a family comforlable, with the 
least expenditure. Those, who understand the science, 
live comfortably on small means ; while others, with great 
expense, are constantly disappointed in the results which 
they would produce. It is also equally important, that 
the man, as well as the woman, know how to perform 
that part in the domeslic economy, which falls within 
his province. If not, there will be a double necessity for 
her skill and exertion, and these may often be defeated by 
the bad arrangements or neglect of him, for whom she 
was made the help-meet., not the substitute^ or director. 
If two sentimental, refined, young persons, attracted by a 
mutual regard, and coming togethe-r in the holy estate of 
matrimony, should chance, in all the knowledge they have 
acquired, to have learned nothing of domestic economy, 
there will be great danger, in tlie discomforts of their 
housekeeping, that "love will spread his light wings," and 
fly to brighter skies. Such a pair, during the romance 
of first love, might turn, with a smile of mingled pity and 
contempt, from the suggestions of prudent friends. Thus 
did a young and poetical girl, betrothed to one equally en- 
thusiastic, when standing with him, watching a brilliant 
sunset, as the rays were refracted hy the clouds hover- 
ing over a distant mountain, regard contemptuously the 
question of an older sister, "do you tw^o expect to live 
on fogs and sunbeams ?" That they w^ere to live togeth- 
er was enough to render them happy, in prospect ; how 
they were to live was a question, of too unpoetical a na- 
ture, to have been allowed to interrupt their visions of 
future bliss. 

Poetry is good, when it elevates and purifies the affec- 
tions ; when it adds real refinement to the mind, softens 
and subdues the asperities of character, and thus dignifies 
man, and enlivens human existence. It is good, too, 
when employed in the service of religion, to inspire de- 
votion, or awaken ])enitence. But the poetry which 
would turn the thoughts from the hallowed domestic fire- 



300 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

side, and from the consideration of the duties of life, to 
regions of romance, vice, and crime, disgusts the young 
with the real scenes of life, and inspires them with false 
notions of refinement and duty ; sucii poetry is the hane 
of human happiness and virtue. Byron has the honor of 
standing highest in the list of modern poets, who have la- 
bored to poison, rather than purify, the mind of man. 
But he is not alone ; many of the novels, periodicals, and 
annuals, of the day, are fraught with sickly sentiments, in 
verse and prose, which tend to foster, in the young, false 
views of hie, and to degrade the domestic virtues. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

CONNECTION BETWEEN MORAL EDUCATION AND THE 
EMOTIONS. 

Having considered the various branches of female ed- 
ucation, we sliall turn our attention to subjects connected, 
more immediately, with our moral natures. It has been 
my chief object, to impress upon the minds of the young 
this great trutli ; that the chief concern in life should be, 
the cultivation of those faculties, which will fit them for 
intercourse with the virtuous on earth, and the blessed in 
heaven. How often does the world exhibit those, who, 
with high intellectual endowments, are low and grovelling 
in their moral tastes ; whose very breath seems conta- 
gion, and whose examples have a blighting and sickly in- 
fluence upon the characters around them ! Thus we see, 
that, towards the perfection of the human being, some- 
thing more is necessary, than intellectual iniprovement. 

Education is either physical, intellectual, or moral. 
Physical education depends on that class of mental op- 
erations, called sensations. Intellectual education con- 
sists in the cultivation of the reasoning powers, memoryy 
imagination, &c. Jlhral education is addressed to that 
order of our feelings, known under the general term, 
emotions. 



MORAL EDUCATION AND THE EMOTIONS. 301 

You will perceive, then, that the three departments of 
education, which have been named, have a distinct ref- 
erence to the three divisions of the mind, which appear 
to include the whole of our mental operations. 

It is important, then, in entering upon the subject of 
moral education, that we should examine into the nature 
of the emotions, or of those feelings, which are either to 
be cultivated or repressed. The term moral is used here 
in its most general sense, including our rehgious aflec- 
tions, which are founded in our emotions. 

If man had been formed, with only a capacity of sen- 
sation, he would not have been superior to the brutes ; 
but, with the intellectual faculties superadded, he is rais- 
ed far above them. Reason and judgement enable him to 
subject creation, animate as well as inanimate, to his con- 
trolling power ; memory gives him back the past, and 
imagination, with her magic pencil, pictures forth scenes, 
ludicrous and wonderful, beautiful and subhme. 

But, had the Almighty here withheld his gifts, had he 
not endowed us with the capacity of emotion, how cold, 
how dead, and how valueless would have been our intel- 
lectual nature ! We should have felt hunger and thirst, 
and needed food to sustain us ; we should have been sus- 
ceptible of cold, and needed clothing to cover us ; we 
should have possessed the judgement to provide means 
for the supply of our wants, and might have " lived, and 
moved, and had a being," in the world. The astronomer 
and mathematician might have pursued their calculations ; 
the geologist might have examined the rocks, and reasoned 
upon their formation and changes ; the botanist might have 
studied the wonders of the vegetable world, and the met- 
aphysician have sought to .penetrate the mysteries of mind ; 
but to what, would all these speculations tend, without 
the capacity of emotion ? Especially, of that grand and 
sublime emotion, which gives to the study of Nature its 
highest charm, love to God, and admiration of his power 
and goodness. 

What would be the state of human society, were it not 
for friendship, and the various other forms of love, filial^ 
parental, and conjugal ? Without a desire of pleasingy 
26 XVIII. 



302 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

and the alternate light and shade of Joi/ and sorrow^ cheer- 
fulness and melancholy^ what a monotonous picture would 
life present ! Where would be the incentives to effort, 
if the love of fame, and the desire of doing good, were 
taken from the mind ? But all our emotions are not such 
as lead to good and happiness. Why, we may ask, is 
given us the capacity for anger, and revenge, hatred, en- 
vy, avarice, and pride ? Without attempting to show, 
what, in many cases, can be clearly proved, that, from all 
this ^'practical evil," is " universal good," it is sufficient 
to know, what the Almighty has seen fit to inform us, 
namely, that, when he created man, he pronounced his 
work " good ;" but man, by falling into sin, brought con- 
fusion into his nature, and now exhibits a strange contra- 
riety of good and bad propensities, and a continual strug- 
gle between virtue and vice. 

Moral education should be so conducted, as to strength- 
en and mature the better feelings of our nature, and con- 
trol those which tend to evil. I am not about to enter 
into a metaphysical consideration of the nature of our 
moral feelings ; but, I think it necessary to explain to 
you, what I mean by the term emotions, in order to show 
the relation of this order of our faculties to moral educa- 
tion. You will remember, that, following the division 
of some late writers on the mind, we have considered 
all the mental phenomena, as comprised under three 
classes, — sensations, intellectual powers, and emotions. 
In considering physical education, we treated of sensa- 
tions ; under the head of intellectual improvement, we 
remarked upon the various mental powers, towards the 
cultivation of which it was directed. 

We will now examine into the nature of emotions, and 
their connection with our moral and religious characters. 

It is difficult to express, by words, the difference be- 
tween emotions and intellectual states of mind ; and so it 
would be, to point out the difference in the taste of sugar 
and salt, except by referring to the substances themselves. 
We must then refer to the experience of every individu- 
al, for the difference between reasoning and loving, or re- 
membering and hoping. 



MORAL EDUCATION AND THE EMOTIONS. 30 



ouo 



In common language, the head is spoken of, as being 
the seat of the intellectual powers, and ihe heart, of the 
emotions. This, however, is not philosophy ; since we 
have no reason to suppose, that the mind is divided into 
different portions. Yet we know, that, when studying in- 
tently, or otherwise exercising our reasoning powers, the 
head seems affected, as if the labor were there ; while joy, 
grief, or any other powerful emotion, seems to quicken 
the pulsation of the heart, to impede its motion, or other- 
wise to affect it. Thus we speak of a light or heavy heart. 

All that we know, respecting the influence of certain 
mental operations upon the brain, and others upon the 
heart, is, the existence of the fact. We know, too, (be- 
cause God has revealed it to us,) that, when the brain 
shall have lost its living principle, and the heart shall 
have ceased to beat, the mind, which once acted upon 
them, will be no less active in its disunited state. 

Whilst all writers agree, that there are affections of 
mind, very different from what some call intellectual, oth- 
ers, reasoning powers, powers of the understanding, &c., 
there have been different arrangements made of these af- 
fections. Some have imagined a generic difl'erence be- 
tween passions and emotions ; others have considered the 
affections as still a separate genus. Thus, Lord Kames 
considers an emotion as less powerful than a passion. 
Dr. Cogan reverses this order. The latter says, a pas- 
sion signifies being passive under a feeling ; while emo- 
tion means the expression of the feeling, by outward acts. 
The affections, he considers to be a milder form of the 
passions. 

The term active powers, which some writers have ap- 
propriated to this class of our mental operations, seems 
not well chosen. Is the mind less active, when planning 
schemes for the accomplishment of some object, than in 
the desire, or loish, which sets the inventive powers in 
operation ? Why, then, should we call the desire active, 
any more than the reasoning ? 

Although, under the general head of emotions, are 
comprehended passions, affections, &c., still, these terms 
are proper, to express different degrees of mental excite- 



304 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

ment. Passion is an intense emotion ; affection denotes 
a moderate and gentle state of feeling. When you con- 
sider, that this class of our mental operations includes all 
our desires, our hopes and fears, our love and hatred, 
and our moral and religious feelings, you will perceive, 
that, as they are well or ill-directed, the character will be 
virtuous or vicious. 

If the young mind has early acquired a love of virtue, 
and hatred of vice ; if it has learned to desire the im- 
provement of its nature, in all that is good and praisewor- 
thy, and to fear moral degradation as the greatest of evils ; 
if its moral emotion has been preserved from the con- 
taminating influence of custom, fashion, and habit ; then 
has its moral education been successfully conducted, and 
received the blessing of God. But, if no restraining in- 
fluence has been exerted, to control the passions and de- 
sires ; if pleasure has been allow^ed to fix her empire' in 
the heart, and virtue been rendered subservient to her 
caprices ; if the love of self, and self-indulgence, has 
habitually triumphed over the better feelings of the heart ; 
how little does the youthful character present, which a 
virtuous mind can delight to contemplate ! Observe the 
beautiful female, graceful in manners, elegant in conver- 
sation, enlightened in intellect, but selfish, vain, and un- 
principled ; a prey to degrading passions, to envy, hatred, 
and malice ; with no higher motive, than human praise, 
and seeking no higher enjoyment, than in pleasure ; whose 
influence tends still to degrade and lower her standard of 
moral feelings ; — do you envy the fascinations of her 
beauty or talents .'' Do you not desire that you may, 
above all things, possess moral goodness .'' Little, indeed, 
could be expected or hoped, from a young person, who 
could look, with indifference, upon moral depravity, even 
if decked with the most fascinating allurements. 

A strong desire for moral excellence, and a consequent 
dread of moral depravity, seems to be peculiarly neces- 
sary in youth, when so many obstacles are to be over- 
come, so many passions subdued, and so many tempta- 
tions resisted. '' What spectacle upon earth," says a 
French writer, " is more interesting, and, at the same time, 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 305 

more natural, than that of a young heart, opening, at once, 
to the emanation of virtue, and the affections of life ; 
devoting itself, as a consecrated priest, to the worship of 
excellence, with all the enthusiasm of its age, and with 
feelings yet unsophisticated ? The meditations of youth 
are full of seeds ; its actions are promises ; its days are 
rich with the future. It fears no withering ; it is discon- 
certed hy no douhts ; it has not yet been deceived, and 
suspects not what the terrible experience of the world 
will teach it. How precious is this enthusiasm, which 
makes virtue so easy ; this serene innocence, which con- 
ceives no danger ; this earnestness of soul, which, in as- 
piring to the best, hopes to realize the vision upon earth ! 
How sad is that dissipation of mind, in which those treas- 
ures are wasted ! that excitement of the passions, which 
quenches these hopes ! that unfortunate experience of 
life, which destroys this faith, and clouds this vision of 
excellence !" 

True it is, that the beautiful visions of human virtue and 
perfectibility, which hover around the imagination, and 
warm the hearts of the young, are sadly marred by the 
experience, both of themselves and others. Instead of 
finding the pathway of virtue always easy and pleasant, 
trials, temptations, and calls for self-denial, meet them on 
every side : but these are the necessary means of ma- 
turing virtue. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE FEELINGS, ON WHICH THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS 
CHARACTER IS FOUNDED. 

Moral education commences at a much earlier period, 
than is generally imagined. When a babp cries for what 
it wants, it has already begun to be imperious and selfish. 
Few mothers appear to be sensible, how much the future 
character of the child depends on the direction the mind 
receives, during the first years of life. 
26* 



806 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

That the temper of a child may be rendered mild, or 
irritable, according to the treatment it receives, is a fact, 
known to those who observe the operation of infant minds. 
The child who is, at one time, indulged with excessive 
fondness, and, at another, refused a reasonable gratifica- 
tion, soon becomes capricious and obstinate ; it feels the 
necessity of setting up a government of its own, since it 
has no confidence in that of its mother. 

A mother must know how to govern her own passions, 
before she is fit to direct those of a child. And, as it is 
very possible that every young female may, in time, sus- 
tain this important relation, she should be early disciplined 
to self-government. 

Many of my young readers, whose hearts have hithert6 
felt htlle anxiety for others, whose thoughts have been 
chiefly engrossed by their ov;^n persons, or the cultivation 
of their own minds, will, at some future day, regard their 
own health and happiness as but secondary to the well- 
being of those, who will owe existence to them. When 
such claims upon their care and attention shall exist, then 
will they feel the value of that education, which has given 
them some knowledge of the human mind, and of its ten- 
dencies. 

We will remark upon some of the emotions which are 
most powerful, and have the greatest influence upon mor- 
al character. Jinger is one of the earliest feelings, which 
a child exhibits ; its effects, even in infants, may be wit- 
nessed, in the manner in which they reject whatever is 
disagreeable. The child of a few months throws away, 
with an appearance of anger, a plaything which does not 
please it, or violently kicks, with its tiny feet, when laid 
upon the floor, contrary to its inclination. How is this 
passion to be calmed and corrected } A mother, who is 
herself passionate, may become angry with her child, and 
beat it. This is a sure way of strengthening the passion; 
for, in addition to the original impulse, operating on the 
mind of the child, is the example^ to the imitation of which 
the emotion of sympathy strongly prompts. 

If anger is suffered to operate upon the young mind of 
a child, without proper and effectual discipline ; if it 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 307 

grows with the growth, and strengthens with the strength ; 
it will be very difficult for her, in mature years, though 
aided by reason and conscience, to acquire a command 
over her temper. 

How many persons do We hear lament the want of 
government over their passions, and attribute it to a de- 
fect in their early education ! It is, indeed, a great mis- 
fortune, not to have been early taught this important les- 
son. But when this is the case, greater caution and vig- 
ilance should be used, against falling into temptation. 

The forms of anger are various : in some cases, it ex^ 
hibits itself in a sullen obstinacy, in others, by peevishness 
or revenge ; but, in whatever way it appears, it is always 
unamiable to others, and distressing to the individual who 
indulges in it. A virtuous indignation against vice and 
personal injury is consistent with purity, and consistency 
of character. 

Selfishness is love directed towards ourselves. This 
feeling may become so strong, as to absorb all the better 
emotions of the heart. No child, properly educated, would 
be excessively selfish. A mother, who observed in her 
child a strong propensity to selfishness, without giving her 
any long lessons upon the meanness of the quality, en- 
deavored to make her comprehend the pleasure of im- 
parting to others. At nine years of age, this little girl 
was heroically generous. Said she, one day, " Mamma, 
you know when I was young, I was very selfish. I re- 
member the first time T enjoyed giving any thing away. 
You had given me some fruit, and said, I must share it 
with my sister. I did not like at all to do it, but feared 
to disobey you. While my sister and I sat together, 
eating the fruit, I thought, how pleasant it was to see oth- 
ers happy ; and after that, I did not want things all to 
myself." 

Jealousy is a painful, degrading, emotion. It often ap- 
pears in very young children ; even the babe will appear 
troubled, at seeing its mother caress an older child. In- 
■considerate people laugh at this, and perhaps increase the 
uneasiness of the infant, by aflected fondness for other 
children. We cannot, too early, endeavor to clear our 



303 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

bosoms from this tormenting feeling. Do you look, with 
unhappiness, upon the beauty, talents, or accomplish- 
ments, of a companion? This is jealousy, from which 
you should flee, with horror, as from a serpent, seeking 
to entwine you in its fatal folds. 

A jealous disposition transforms light into darkness, 
beauty into deformity, and kindness into insults. The more 
amiable, lovely, and elevated, the beings who surround 
the jealous person, the more food does the bitter feeling, 
within, find to subsist upon ; the more generous and for- 
giving his companions, the more he sees their superiority 
to himself, and the stronger is his hatred. 

Jealousy, in the young, rises not, in many cases, to 
such a pitch, as to manifest itself in deadly hostility ; yet, 
when we hear the whisper of detraction, see the frown of 
discontent, because another has been successful, or wit- 
ness a sullen and unsocial withdrawal from the company 
of young associates, we start back in alarm ; the serpent 
may be yet in embryo ; but we see him in all his hateful 
features, and we know that he will soon acquire strength, 
to overcome all that is good and lovely in the character. 
There are always evil-minded persons, enough, who are 
ready with suggestions, calculated to foster and inflame a 
jealous disposition. They will tell you, to see how proud 
such a one is, of her beauty or her acquirements ; how 
sorry they are to perceive your merits eclipsed, by her 
pretensions, or to see you treated by her with such neg- 
lect. The best way, to check any risings of jealousy, 
is, to repel all such insinuations, and speak in commen- 
dation of the absent, not, as the poet says, to " damn 
w'nh faint praise j''^ but to bring forward their good quali- 
ties, with sincerity and earnestness. But how, you may 
ask, shall we feel thus, if the real tendency of our hearts 
is to envy and jealousy ? This is truly a serious ques- 
tion ; and, in the language of Divine inspiration, 1 will 
answer you, " If any of you lacketh wisdom," (and by 
wisdom is here meant a right disposition of heart,) "let 
him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and up- 
braideth not, and it shall be given to him." 

It is very possible, that the desire of intellectual attain- 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. o09 

ments may lead to a dangGrous emulation, and degenerate 
into jealousy of a successful rival ; you will do well to 
watch over yourselves in this ; and, whenever you feel 
the unworthy emotion, crush it in its beginning, and re- 
solve that, if you cannot be first in talents, you will not be 
wanting in moral worth. 

It is in contending with the evil propensities of our na- 
ture, that virtue gains its triumph. Why, then, should we 
complain, that our Creator has suffered these propensities 
to spring up in our souls, since he has also armed us with 
powers capable of overcoming them ? What propensities 
of our nature are to be checked, and what are to be en- 
couraged ? This question is the foundation of all moral 
education, whether of ourselves, or others. You, to 
whom I address myself, are now of an age to be seri- 
ously engaged in self-education. After all that may have 
been done for your improvement, by others, you may be 
able to detect, in your own hearts, the germs of evil pas- 
sions, which may have been overlooked by them; or you 
may perceive, that the better affections of your nature are 
languishing and feeble. Search, then, your own hearts ; 
try your own spirits ; and resolve, that, by God's help, 
you will not follow, or be led by, your evil passions, but 
will endeavor to cultivate all your good affections, and to 
become as elevated, in the scale of moral perfection, as 
your nature will admit. 

The emotions of love, the moral sense, and the desire 
of excellence, are those feelings of the human soul, on 
which the moral and religious character is founded. From 
these feelings, all our duties result ; because, if we pos- 
sessed them not, we should not be accountable beings, 
and, in that case, duty would be out of the question. 

The Scripture says, " love is the fulfilling of the law ;" 
the domestic and social relations, all presuppose this affec- 
tion, which, radiating from the circle of our own private 
attachments, embraces our country, and the whole human 
race. The moral sense, or, as I prefer to call it, the 
moral emotion, is the foundation of human justice, re- 
quiring us to " do to others, as we would they should do 
to us." 



310 THE FIRESIDE FRIEND. 

Religious education is founded in our moral emotions. 
The child soon learns that his parents, powerful as he 
imagines them to be, did not create the world, in which 
he lives, and the glorious canopy above ; he is taught, 
that every good and perfect thing is the gift of God, and 
that himself is the workmanship of His hand. Thus he 
learns to fear God, as all-powerful ; and, when he realizes 
that all his blessings are from Him, he loves Him, for His 
benevolence. He desires to make God the supreme ob- 
ject of his affection, and offers unto Him the sacrifice of 
a broken and contrite spirit. The desire of moral ex- 
cellence, which is early developed in the heart of the 
virtuous, waxes stronger and stronger, as the religious 
emotions gain strength and permanency ; until feeling that, 
in this world, he can never attain to that standard of per- 
fection at which he aims, he rejoices in the prospect of 
that change, which is to usher him into a new and sinless 
existence. 



APPENDIX. 



MORAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 



CONTINUED. 

[Note. For the ideas contained in the following pages, the author 
is chiefly indebted to the second volume of Madame de Saussure's 
'Progressive Education,' which she designs translating, as soon as 
other engagements will permit. She hopes the learned and excellent 
author will excuse the free use she has made of her valuable work, in 
thus incorporating its sentiments with her own.] 



CHAPTER I. 

COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. NATURE, CONSIDERED IN 

ITSELF, AND IN ITS RELATIONS WITH GOD. 

" Religion is the aromatic principle which preserves science from 
corruption." — Bacon. 

The instructer should be sensible of the sacred nature 
of his vocation, and inspired with elevated views of duty. 
In his relations with his pupil, he should be careful to 
maintain the most perfect simplicity. He should watch 
the moral condition of the mind he is to influence, so that 
he may readily judge, what sentiments and ideas it is ca- 
pable of imbibing. A tender sympathy, and an ardent 
desire to exercise a salutary influence, easily give access 
to a soul, susceptible of being affected by kindness. 

But the teacher, having descended to the level of the 
child, needs also to rise towards Heaven, that he may re- 
fresh himself at the fountain of knowledge and goodness ; 



312 APPENDIX. 

renew his strength, exhausted by petty details ; and con- 
sider, from a high elevation, the path before him. He 
will redescend from this height, better prepared for du- 
ty, and better understanding the secret of animating the 
Httle statue of clay committed to his care. The language 
of instruction seems almost the gift of inspiration ; reject- 
ing, equally, what is subtile and abstruse, as well as what 
is low and vulgar. The teacher loves to unfold the mys- 
teries of science, and exhibit something more important, 
than has yet been communicated. And does not the pu- 
pil always imagine something of this, in the instructions 
of one whom he reveres .'* To present to the young the 
marvellous side of truth is the pecuharity of a great mind, 
endowed with a happy imagination.* 

When we consider teaching, in relation to the general 
design of education, we may soon discover the particular 
direction, which each study tends to give the mind. All 
real knowledge may be easily associated with piety, and 
may even favor its progress, by connecting, more intimate- 
ly, the idea of God with all our thoughts. Many noble 
works of the human mind have demonstrated, that the re- 
ligious sentiment can find admirable occasions for exer- 
cise, in the progress of our studies. Impregnated by this 
vivifying principle, every part of instruction is found to 
possess a moral advantage ; and, besides its present earth- 
ly and material utility, it may bear fruit for eternity. 

Yet, we ought not to disguise the fact, that every study 
has, also, a dangerous tendency, against which we should 
be guarded. We ought to know, that there is a way to 
be avoided, in the communication of knowledge. We 
may direct the pupil right or wrong, or we may not di- 
rect him at all. In leaving him to the effects of mere 
mechanical teaching, a happy disposition will perhaps 
keep him from wandering ; but it may be otherwise. The 
danger, attached to different studies, might be neutralized 

* Madame de Saussure remarks, that, in the instructions of her father, 
a celebrated philosopher, there was much of this which left a deep im- 
pression upon her memory. And may we not ascribe to this cause, a 
portion of that noble enthusiasm, and fine imagination, which so epai- 
ueutl)' distinguish the daughter ? 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 313 

by their reciprocal effects, if all could be pursued at once ; 
but that is impossible. Each study demands time ; the 
mind, in devoting itself to one pursuit, takes a direction, 
which, without being absolutely wrong, is too exclusive, 
giving rise to habits, difficult to overcome, where the in- 
fluence of an all-pervading sentiment, such as that of re- 
ligion, does not balance the too limited effect of each 
particular branch of learning. For example, the study, 
of all others most innocent, — that of the physical world, 
appears to have so httle connection with morality, that, 
one would suppose, its effect upon the heart of the pupil 
would be of a negative character ; but we shall find, that 
instruction has always its influence upon the soul, and 
that the teacher, who does not employ it to produce good 
effects, exposes the young mind to danger. 

The natural sciences would seem, of themselves, to 
have rather a moral tendency, than otherwise. As an 
attentive and minute examination of external objects is 
required, they readily inspire the love of truth, and an in- 
structer may easily give a happy direction to such pur- 
suits. Secondary truths offer themselves to the pupil, in 
the chain of facts relating to this passing world, while 
primitive and immutable truth belongs to a higher region. 
The testimony of the senses, and inductions made from 
this source, are evidence to our minds, with respect to 
material things ; while the witness of reason becomes the 
source of another evidence, whose clearness cannot be 
obscured by the errors of the senses. Those most im- 
portant truths, which the different cases of false judge- 
ments cannot affect, constitute the fundamental principles 
of all which the pupil is called upon to learn, and, as such, 
he ought ever to recognise them. 

In some respects, the child has an advantage over the 
man. Second causes do not so much occupy his mind, 
and hide from his view the first cause. The chain, which 
connects all things to God, is shorter for him than for us. 
As an intelligent writer has said, our science^ our discov- 
eries, our explanatio7iSj carry us further from the miracle 
of the Divine ivill ; the ignorance of the child refers him, 
at once, to that source. In a certain sense, then, he is 
27 xviii. 



314 APPENDIX. 

more occupied with thoughts of the Eternal Wisdom than 
we are ; and how should we desire that this advantage 
may be preserved to him, during the course of his studies ! 

A rehgious view of Nature is the source of so much 
happiness ; there is something so beautiful, so consohng, 
in every where meeting with the Divine Mind, in com- 
muning with that universal sentiment of Nature, with 
which all our own emotions correspond ; that this dispo- 
sition cannot be too much cultivated in youth. It will 
stimulate the young to all that is noble, and remain their 
comfort and guide through life. Secondary truths will 
lose nothing by this ; that which must preside over their 
acquisition, the spirit of observation and impartiality, will 
remain free, and even be favored, by a judicious educa- 
tion. It would be unwise and blamable to neglect the 
cultivation of those intellectual powers, which enable us 
to see clearly the objects before us, and which may con- 
tribute to morality, by calming the effervescence, and 
dissipating the illusions, of the passions. There is a want 
of faith, and of reason itself, in the idea, that the discov- 
eries of the mind will not always be additional motives 
for the worship of God. 

In truth, a sentiment of adoration grows upon us, in pro- 
portion as we discover the laws of Nature. In beholding, 
in the physical world, an order so wonderful, and so 
many beautiful and benevolent dispensations, our hearts 
fill with reverence and gratitude, the strong bonds of ha- 
bitual skepticism burst in sunder, and the idea of celestial 
goodness becomes an active principle, when we find a new 
proof of it in every fact we learn. The stability of the 
laws of Nature becomes, to the Christian student, the 
permanent expression of the will of God. 

When we contemplate the regularity of the order of 
Nature, we are led to perceive, that the Governor of the 
universe does not rule with arbitrary power, but that He 
has imposed laws upon Himself. The discovery of 
these laws is the end which we propose to our reason ; 
and which partially, at least, it attains with a high degree 
of certainty. Having learned the constant succession of 
certain facts, we are led to others, still more general in 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 315 

their nature, and, in proportion as we ascend from cause 
to cause, the path of truths, relating to this world, opens 
for our inspection, and we feel ourselves allied to the 
Supreme Intelligence, Although some links, in the great 
chain of second causes, may be wanting, to our view; 
though reason may pause,, and inexplicable phenomena 
astonish us ; a conviction, still more deep, of the power of 
God, and of His presence, overwhelms us. A religious 
fear seizes our souls, and we adore, in silence, Him, 
whom we feel to be, at the same time, so near, so power- 
ful, and so mysterious. 

In the study of natural history, all these impressions 
seem to unite. To what, but its Infinite Source^ can we 
refer that most familiar, and yet most wonderful, phe- 
nomenon of life ? — life so diversified, so abundant in the 
universe ! We see it on all sides, becoming extinct and 
renewed ! and, whether it disappear, or is seen under a 
new form, we can only say, so God wills ; we must 
here look to the First Cause, only. The preservation of 
life is no less miraculous, than its beginning and end. It 
exists in a devouring atmosphere, surrounded by ele- 
ments, whose action has the power of dissolving the frail 
human organization ; yet these are made to spare, nay, 
even to support, it, for many years. The invisible soul 
communicates its incorruptible nature to the corruptible 
body ; its activity, to inert matter. And, when we be- 
hold life filling the w^orld, under different forms ; when 
we perceive, that all, which is not life, is its support, or 
aliment, can we fail to acknowledge, in a living God, 
the cause of all existence ? can we fail to acknowledge, 
that Hfe itself, in its sublime origin, and in its abundant dis- 
tribution, is the first and the last, the Alpha and Omega, of 
the Universe ? And does not this infinite progression, by 
which life, feeble and almost imperceptible in the plant, 
rises to instinct in the animal, and reason in man, loudly 
proclaim the dominion of intelligence ? Beings less richly 
gifted are, every where, subservient to those who arQ 
more so. Inanimate matter serves for the nutriment of the 
plant, the plant nourishes the animal ; the inferior species 
of animals serve for the support of the superior ; and 



316 APPENDIX. 

man, so feeble by his jDhysical constitution, but strong 
by his intellect, rules over all. Who, in this progression, 
does not see the power of mind over matter ? who does not 
see, that the Supreme Uncreated Mind rules over all that 
is created ? 

Before the age in which such considerations may be 
submitted to the pupil, the instructer should excite his in- 
terest for the different tribes of animals, representing them 
to the child, as the humble companions of his earthly exis- 
tence, and, like himself, the workmanship of a beneficent 
Creator. How affecting appears' the idea of God, con- 
sidered as the Father of creation, as evincing love for all 
His works, even for the little sparrows, not one of which 
falls to the ground without His knowledge ! What tender 
emotions arise, as we contemplate the immense family of 
God, the sentient beings which walk or crawl upon the 
earth, fly in the air, and swim in the waters, — all happy, all 
enjoying, without reason, that which seems to be the re- 
sult of its greatest effort, the sentiment of unrestrained 
liberty, in a perfect obedience to the law of God ! 

In the region of inanimate Nature, other impressions, 
scarcely less salutary, await the pious student. There, 
reigns the idea of order, eternal and immutable, ever main- 
taining itself amid perpetual change : — order, which, whilst 
its laws sometimes escape our notice, in the complexity 
and extreme delicacy of organic effects, clearly manifests 
itself in inanimate matter, notwithstanding the variety and 
changing nature of the forms which it assumes. Here, 
agents, the most terrible and the most formidable, are 
subjected to fixed rules ; and the moment, in which the 
equilibrium of the physical world seems to be most dis- 
turbed, is precisely that, in which it is about to be rees- 
tablished by the balance of opposite forces. Here is pre- 
sented the triumph of human reason. We see it pursuing 
truth, with the greatest possible advantage ; since, not 
contented with facts, which Nature offers, it forces her 
to produce new results. Having not, as in the animal 
kingdom, to fear for the fleeting breath of life, man breaks, 
dissolves, or fuses, the bodies submitted to his examination ; 
he decomposes their elements, and again recomposes them, 



COMMUNICATION OP KNOWLEDGE. 317 

under new forms. Thus, by putting Nature to the rack, 
she is made to disclose her secrets. And how delighted 
is man, at such discoveries ! What pleasure mingles with 
his exultation, when he finds himself able to trace out and 
follow the current of the Divine thoughts ! His discov- 
eries become more and more grand and delightful ; the 
order, which he supjjosed in the universe, whose existence, 
not yet proved, was the clue which guided him in his re- 
searches, becomes more and more established, as he pro- 
ceeds in his investigation. All apparent irregularities are 
successively resolved, as he better understands a system 
constantly exliibiting a vaster and more magnificent unity. 
His idea of the Creator enlarges, with that of the creation, 
and his noblest sentiments become more expansive with 
the progress of his intelligence. 

Nowhere is the union of these two principles more inti- 
mate, than in that most astonishing of the sciences, astrono- 
my. The knowledge of numbers and their laws, such as 
the power of abstraction has given, and has used to meas- 
ure the succession of time, has never found an application 
more exact, than in the calculation of the motions of the 
celestial bodies. Those stars, so brilliant and so inacces- 
sible to man, and, compared with which, he is but an atom 
in space, and an instant in duration, arrange themselves, 
with such docility, under the empire of man's calculation, 
that they appear at the very point in the heavens, which 
he has dared, long beforehand, to designate. And, in the 
more conjectural part of this science, in those wonderful 
hypotheses, which suppose, that entire systems of suns, 
with the worlds which they enlighten, are blended in those 
nebulae, or luminous cloud-like spots, innumerable mul- 
titudes of which appear in the depths of the firmament, — 
the mind, reeling with the contemplation of thoughts so 
lofty, recoils, terrified, before its own conceptions. And 
yet this bold and amazing idea of all-creating power has 
only carried us to the frontier of its dominions. 

In the natural sciences, the student must confine him- 
self to that strict reasoning, which ascertains the certainty 
of every step. The great utility of these sciences, as 
regards the young, is, in teaching them how to arrive at 
27* 



318 APPENDia 

certain truth. Considered in this respect, the advantage 
of such studies is invaluable. By a constant reference 
to facts, and real objects, the connection of cause and 
effect becomes evident to the senses. Accustomed thus 
to master a subject, the student is not satisfied with words, 
merely, but learns to reason, closely, on moral subjects. 

What danger, then, it maybe asked, can be connected 
with these studies ? There would be none, if to them 
were assigned their proper weight, in the scale of instruc- 
tion.* 

Nothing can be more harmless, than the observation of 
the visible world, in which we are placed, when the pupil 
does not forget that there is, also, an invisible world ; but 
if the idea of physical order so occupy his attention, as to 
absorb the sentiment of an order superior to that, then 
should w^e deplore a habit of study, which had produced 
such results. The regular course of the celestial bodies, 
•the uniform action of physical forces, are to him but the 
effects of mechanism ; he deifies human reason, because 
it has discovered some of the laws of the universe, rather 
than the Legislator who conceived and established these 
laws. In short, he arrives at the miserable doctrine of 
materialism J a calamity, for which no acquired science 
is sufficient to compensate. 

* Those, who are familiar with the authors' series of elementary 
ecientific works, will observe a striking coincidence in her sentiments 
and those of the author of ' Progressive Education,' as above expressed. 
To find out God in his works, to learn lessons of wisdom from the vol- 
ume of Nature, to purify and elevate the affections, by a perception 
of the goodness of the Creator, as manifested in his creation, — these 
should be the prominent objects of the student in natural science ; 
while, at the same time, he is learning to reason correctly, and arrange 
his thoughts according to those principles of order, so beautifully illus- 
trated in scientific classification. 

Madame de Saussure admonishes those who are fond of philosophi- 
cal research, not to rest at secondary causes. Such admonitions are 
but too necessary. How chilling is that apathy of the moral emotions, 
which often attends the philosopher in his pursuits ; leading him, per- 
chance, as in a case under the author's observation, to watch the death- 
bed of his dearest friend, with the same coldness of reasoning, as he 
would observe the process of an experiment in the laboratory, and to 
note down, with scientific accuracy, the progressive change from life 
to death, the gradual triumph of the material over the mental part, until 
the body is wholly given up to the laws which govern matter. 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 319 

This danger may easily be avoided. Let the care of 
inspiring religious sentiments be continual and earnest, 
and the natural sciences can have no unhappy effect upon 
the young mind. Let us develope the moral faculties, 
in the same degree as the intellectual, leaving each to act 
freely, and religion can have no need to impose shackles 
upon reason. This faculty, constrained, loses its true 
character. Reason has its laws, its path is marked out 
by Him who has given it to enlighten us in this world. 
Obliged to go from one consequence to another, it at 
length reaches a boundary that it cannot pass ; this has 
been the progress of all discoveries in the sciences. 
When reason is not disturbed in its course, it attains to 
truths which necessarily accord with the eternal truth.* 

This unvarying regularity, in the march of unbiassed 
reason, is an admirable dispensation. Who, but the Au- 
thor of Nature, could have thus marked out its path ? It 
was necessary, that there should have been a perfect cor- 
respondence between the laws of the human mind and 
physical laws, to enable us to become famihar with the 
external world. If the logical connection of our thoughts 
had not been conformed to the train of causes and effects 
in the universe, the secrets of Nature had never been un- 
veiled to us. Without that secret harmony, we could 
never have estabhshed that moral order, by means of 
which we communicate with the minds of others. It is 
because this noble gift leads us, undeviatingly, to justice, 
excellence, and to God Himself, that all primary truths 
are immutable. It is necessary, that virtue and piety 
should be deeply rooted in reason itself ; that their sacred 
authority should be venerated among men. 

* There ought to be such an impartiality in the explanation of facts, 
and their immediate consequence, as to preclude the necessity of a 
continual effort to find matter in favor of religious belief. Let us not 
only reject the proofs of the Divine goodness and wisdom, which will 
not support the severest scrutiny, proofs which the progress of science 
may, hereafter, annul, but even be sparing, with respect to those which 
are convincing. A spirit of adoration gives to science its true life and 
warmth ; while theological controversy chills it. Every exhibition of 
evidence does injury to a mind already convinced, and may wound a 
heart glowing with love. Let the teacher imbue the mind of his pupil 
with the thought of God, and then show His works ; they will speak 
for themselves. 



320 APPENDIX. 

All our faculties, undoubtedly, partake of our natural 
imperfection, but reason is much less in fault for human 
errors, than has been supposed ; and what have been 
termed the lo and er ing s o[ ve3.son^ are not her own. We 
do not deal honestly with reason ; we plead her authority 
to justify opinions, in the formation of which, she has had 
no share ; we would have reason perform the part of an 
advocate, rather than that of a judge. We can direct from 
what point reason shall start, and carry her examination 
to one subject, rather than to another ; we can arrest her 
action, when we please, by giving or withholding the nec- 
essary attention ; and, finally, can carry her exactly 
whither we wish. Thus we may employ reason, forever, 
in drawing conclusions from principles, whose legitimacy 
we have nev^er permitted her to prove ; ^ve may compel 
reason to examine one side, only, of that w^hich is submitted 
to her inspection ; and, lastly, if she, by chance, arrive 
at conclusions contrary to our wishes, we may refuse to 
listen to her voice. The power which we have of inter- 
rupting one particular train of thought, in order to carry 
our minds in another direction, though so valuable, in 
many respects, is, nevertheless, often an obstacle to the 
straight-forward course of reason. 

We do not, perhaps, sufficiently distinguish the instruc- 
tion of the child from that of the man. A mature mind 
easily comprehends, that the sciences have their limits, 
and that we cannot, reasonably, reproach those w'hich have 
for their object the study of the physical world, for not 
including moral ideas. But the mind of the child is not 
formed ; — to instruct, according to the etymology of the 
the word, means, to construct within ; it is to make a man 
of the child, a being of sentiment and reason. Studies 
which can awaken, in the soul, the love of God, are re- 
quired to answer its wants. 

Reason, itself, refuses to be confined within prescribed 
limits. Universal in her action, she often bursts the 
boundaries of science ; and, pursuing truth through the 
material world, attains the threshold of Divine truth. 
The question of the origin of the most insignificant in- 
sect may carry reason to the Creator ; the explanation of 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 321 

the most trifling fact may conduct her to the Cause of 
causes. 

If such be the progress of reason, in a healthy soul, an 
enlightened instructer will not fear to preserve its just 
prerogatives ; but he will fear the formation of habits 
which impede the exercise of reason, under pretence of 
extending her empire. Deeply impressed with the sen- 
timent of the high destiny of man, he believes that all 
his faculties are necessary to enable him to fulfil it, and 
he values the study of Nature in proportion as it unfolds 
the character and attributes of its Author. 

But this unity of design, which every perfect work, 
and that of education especially, ought to possess, is not 
the essential object for minds, whose views are confined 
to this world. Thinking nothing of Heaven, and little 
of the soul of man, they see each branch of learning by 
itself, only. Accustomed to believe, only in the truths 
manifested to their senses, they love to occupy themselves 
with materialities, and their taste for the physical sciences 
is founded on the gratification of this propensity. Under 
such teachers, the pupils, who will be continually kept to 
the observation of material objects, find even their reason 
subjected to a kind of mechanism ; and, if this reason 
should oblige them even to acknowledge a Creator in the 
creature, the idea would remain lifeless and unprofitable. 
Strangers to the grandeur, even of the sciences they cul- 
tivate, they can never experience the dehghtful impres- 
sions, which the admirable order of Nature produces in 
the pious heart. Their partial progress continually adds 
to the moral disproportion. To the preponderance of 
material order in their studies, will soon succeed that of 
the material interests of life. And, unless superior natu- 
ral qualities should counteract the influence of education, 
their conduct in real life will hereafter demonstrate, that 
the superior knowledge of a philosopher, and the acute- 
ness of an analyst, may exist in connection with low and 
narrow views. 



322 APPENDIX. 



CHAPTER II. 

CONTINUATION OF THE COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 

NATURE CONSIDERED IN ITS RELATIONS WITH MAN. 

PREPARATION FOR THE MORAL SCIENCES. 

** The tendency of education in the child should be, to give a pre- 
ponderance to the human nature over the animal." — Kant. 

There is, undoubtedly, grandeur in the severe impar- 
tiality which presides over scientific researches. The 
power of detaching and abstracting himself from his own 
interest is one of the noblest prerogatives of man. Yet 
we must remember that the moral perceptions, alone, act 
beneficially upon the soul, that the knowledge is barren, 
which excites no emotion of the heart, and no more influ- 
ences his character, than do the images of objects affect 
the ice from whose cold bosom they are reflected. Truth 
once discovered, a high tone of feeling may coexist with 
the ideas such a discovery calls up within the mind ; but 
the spirit of investigation can never give birth to those 
fine emotions, tender sympathies, and kind affections, 
which constitute the true nobility of man. The wonders 
of creation astonish us, yet fail to excite our gratitude, 
when we study them without a reference to our own con- 
stitutions. We must feel our own weakness, our need of 
constant assistance, before we can properly estimate the 
value of the natural objects, by which we are surrounded. 

The subservience of Nature to the wants of man, and 
the delight whh which our hearts are filled in the admira- 
tion of its beauty, are the never-failing subjects of our 
gratitude. They present to us two departments in edu- 
cation, — the study of the necessary arts, in which the idea 
of utility prevails, and of the liberal arts, where the idea 
of beauty predominates. In both departments, the in- 
structer continually finds new occasions for exciting and 
unfolding the faculties of his pupil. 

It is important, in the education of the young, to keep 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 323 

in view the idea of utility. Thoughtless infancy knows 
no care ; the yoke of necessity has never weighed heavily 
upon it. Its desires are lively and impetuous ; its grief, 
when these desires are not gratified, is violent, but with- 
out any foretaste of the future ; of the evils, resulting from 
a privation of the necessaries of life, it has no concep- 
tions ; and, as it is influenced by hope, rather tlian fear, 
its greatest troubles are only disappointments. The little 
infant, and the bird, are alike ignorant that they shall die, 
if they do not take the needful sustenance ; but they see 
food, which tempts their appetites, and they eat. 

It is, then, necessary, to open the eyes of a child to 
the sad consequences of indigence, and to inform him of 
the conditions imposed on human existence. In teach- 
ing how the necessities of our nature may be provided 
for, we may also prompt him to adore the goodness of 
God, who has furnished us with the means. We may 
inspire him with affection for his fellow-creatures, w^io 
put these means in operation, and thus, while his intellect 
is active, his heart will be expanding. The conviction of 
our wants increase with age ; and, in proportion as the 
mind acquires strength, will be appreciated the effects of 
the business-hke activity, which is so remarkable at the 
present day. 

What more fruitful subject of meditation, for philoso- 
phy itself, than that law of progression, which seems, on 
all sides, attached to humanity, extending its power, even 
over that which appears least progressive, — our physical 
nature ! Men, in a less advanced state of civilization, had 
but few material wants; these they satisfied within very 
narrow localities, and with but little labor ; but these 
wants have now so extended themselves, that the produc- 
tions of all climates are required, to meet their demands. 
The most refined sciences, the labors, the strength, and 
even the whole existence, of an immense mass of human 
beings, are now employed, to minister to the physical 
wants of a portion of mankind, who yet do not imagine, 
they have any thing more than they actually need. Even 
the laboring class experience and find means of satisfying 
desires, of which they had, formerly, no idea ; what was 



324 APPENDIX. 

luxury for one generation, becomes necessary for the suc- 
ceeding. We are not contented with what was enough 
for our fathers ; and it is impossible to foresee where this 
progression will terminate. Nature has, always, in store, 
new treasures, to recompense the ever new researches of 
men ; and her liberality appears as unbounded as his de- 
sires. 

This progressive impulse seems stronger than any we 
can give in education. The new discoveries, the mechan- 
ical inventions of the day, are so interesting to the imagi- 
nation, and excite so much admiration ; the fame attach- 
ed to them is so great, and the taste for the enjoyments 
they procure, so universal, that we shall vainly expect to 
make the young regard them as unimportant or unneces- 
sary. The Spartan mode of education is out of season, 
and Vvould now be wholly artificial, as would, also, be that 
of attempting to preserve rural life in its simplicity, as 
this would effectually cut off intellectual resources. In 
an order of things, so general, we cannot but perceive 
an expression of the will of Providence. A benevolent 
education will teach the young to make the best of pas- 
sing events, and to view men and things in the most favor- 
able aspect. 

The spirit, which now animates society, demands, in 
many respects, our admiration. When we consider, that 
the artificial mode of hfe, at present so universally adopt- 
ed, contributes to the cultivation of the necessary arts, in- 
asmuch as, where other labors multiply, agriculture flour- 
ishes, also, and the working-men, becoming themselves 
consumers, encourage the activity of those around them ; 
when we see the riches of a country continually increas- 
ing, and the superfluous wealth flowing towards the treas- 
ury of the state, to build and support navies, to maintain 
the troops which watch over the public safety, while they 
constitute the national strength and glory ; when we con- 
sider these results, can we fail to acknowledge, that we are 
greatly indebted to the genius of industry ? must we not 
confess, that civilized nations owe to it, not only their 
splendor, but their security ; that, with this security, they 
need no longer fear the invasions of barbarous tribes, with 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 325 

the moral and intellectual darkness, which is ever the con- 
sequence of barbarian conquest ? 

These considerations are powerful and conclusive. 
There can be no question, that rational beings ought to 
unite in preserving and perfecting the stupendous edifice 
of mechanic art, in the prosecution of which the mind 
of the inventor is, as it were, invested with a body, and 
seems to receive the permanency of matter, in exchange 
for the impulse it has imparted. 

The study of discoveries, and of the processes employed 
in the useful arts, may, in education, have various moral 
tendencies. Like the study of the sciences, of which the 
mechanic arts are but an application, it might be made 
to favor the love of truth, by adding a new motive to in- 
creased energy, namely, the love of utihty. Charity, 
also, might, by this means, be awakened. Let the view 
of the immense mass of human beings, who gain their 
subsistence by the sweat of the face, be properly pre- 
sented to the young, and the heart will become affected 
with a lively compassion, and feel a powerful interest 
for these poor brethren, children of the same Heavenly 
Father ; the solicitude, of which they are the objects, 
will extend to their souls, and the reflection will naturally 
arise, that, in improving their moral sentiments, their con- 
dition, even in this world, will be amehorated. 

But such views do not seem to combine w-ith the 
spirit of the age. We seek, in vain, for a religious spir- 
it, among the promoters of industry ; their silence, upon 
the means of inspiring sentiments of piety, shows their 
indifference on this subject. They forget only this sin- 
gle object, In the education of the poor ; but this object 
ift the essential one. 

Their intentions are pure and generous ; they pity the 
hardships of the laboring classes ; they beheve that, in 
order to improve their condition, and to inspire them 
with a taste for order, it is necessary to instruct them. 
But the good, which they design, would be better accom- 
phshed, if they w^ould propose a still greater good. Their 
idea of developement does not embrace the whole man ; 
for the whole man is not born of the earth. In all sen- 
28 XVIII. 



326 APPENDIX. 

ses of the word elevate^ religion alone truly elevates^ con- 
necting, as it does, physical to moral order, and raising 
to higher degrees of this order. 

But, if it is true, as some pretend, that moral order 
was merely designed as a means for enjoying, in security, 
the good things of this world, w^ouldit not be still evident, 
that beings, most in danger of falling into the temptations 
which destroy men, might find, in rehgion, the strongest 
motives for resistance ? Why should we take away the 
most powerful of consolations, from those who have 
most need of them ? Why should we exclude from the 
only regions of perfect equality, those who are bowed 
down with the sense of their inferiority in this world ? 
Even hope, so necessary, even to those who have every 
thing that this life can give, we would cruelly take from 
those who have nothing. The illusions with which they 
may, for a time, be amused, will soon be dissipated ; 
improvement in worldly circumstances, freedom, and the 
enjoyment of political rights, are the lot but of a small 
number, of all the people who live on the earth. When, 
therefore, the object, which is proposed to such men, 
decidedly fails, when increased intelligence serves only 
to show them, more clearly, that their lot in life is irre- 
mediably fixed ; when, in short, they are finally over- 
whelmed with discouragement, is it surprising, that they 
should seek to benumb their faculties, and to seize the 
pleasures of the senses, — the only pleasures, of which 
they can have conceived the idea ? From this time, 
misery comes upon them, with rapid strides. 

Such an impulse, a young person, formed by a religious 
education, would not wish to communicate to industry. 
Having, in his childhood, been excited to application, by 
pious considerations, by the sentiment of duty, he con- 
ceives no other motive to be necessary ; he does not 
think of proposing any other : and this parity of obliga- 
tions, this certainty, that, in the sight of God, he is on a 
level with the poor, inspires him with that affection for 
them, that conviction of the fundamental equality of all 
men, which will increase his power of influencing and re- 
lieving them, while it ennobles himself. 



COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE. 327 

Shall I say, that a young man, of such sentiments, will 
not partake in that covetousness which seems to invade all 
classes ? He may be called to follow business, in order 
to gain property, but such a destination will not appear 
to him humihating. Considering that fortune will give 
him the means of influencing the moral condition and hap- 
piness of his fellow-beings, he will, for this reason, attach 
a value to it. But how far will he be from that passion 
for money, the scourge of the present times, the common 
result of a worldly education, and a manifest proof of the 
degradation of the human mind, when it is not, in child- 
hood, directed to noble objects ! 

The student, who is destined to engage in the career 
of business, ought to be especially on his guard. He 
should fortify himself against that gradual corruption of 
the best motives, to which poor human nature is exposed. 
A strict and constant examination of his conscience, as 
in the presence of God, may maintain, in him, that high 
morality, which will authorize him to appeal to the con- 
sciences of others. No one can exert a good influence 
over others, who is not good, himself; and no one can 
preserve himself from evil, without self-examination. 
The more one is exposed to become greedy of gain, the 
more he should have recourse to counteracting motives. 

It is thus, that the study of the necessary arts may, in 
education, be connected with morality. The increasing 
extent of industry, by augmenting the relations between 
the educated and the ignorant, multiply occasions by which 
the former may be useful ; some may benefit the poor, 
by their instructions ; others, by inventions, which give 
rise to new kinds of labor ; and all, by cultivating sym- 
pathy and the love of God in the hearts of the poor. 
Thus, in doing good to others, the young learn that they 
are securing blessings for themselves.* Other arts, the 

* Madame de Saussure refers to the reports of Bible Societies, as 
furnishing striking examples of the power of religion, to elevate the con- 
dition of the poor. " When the laborers," she remarks, " formerly- 
abandoned to all kinds of vice, have experienced the effects of religious 
consolations, they have shown themselves desirous of imparting the 
same blessings to others. To do this, they give in their mite to the sa- 
cred treasury. Their existence is now elevated ; they are benefactors. 



328 APPENDIX. 

objects of studies more amusing, may, in a still greater 
degree, exercise a happy influence on education. If the 
care of Providence to provide for our wants excites his 
gratitude, the pupil may feel this sentiment still more 
strongly, when he thinks of the pleasures which God 
has yet been pleased to scatter in our pathway. As the 
child often regards the gift of a useless toy, as a greater 
proof of his father's love, than the daily food he receives 
at his hand, so man perceives more of the benevolence 
of his heavenly Father, in the perfume of flowers, the 
delightful sounds of music, the touching beauty of a land- 
scape, in short, in the luxury of creation, than in those 
constant benefits, on which his very existence depends. 

That these sweet impressions may be felt, in all their 
force, the sentiment of beauty should be early developed 
in the heart. Unhappy, indeed, is that being, in whom 
the carelessness of childhood is succeeded by the distract- 
ing passions of youth, and the apathy of mature years. 
A being, incapable of admiration, feels nothing, where 
others enjoy exquisite delight ; he is, w^hile surrounded 
by grandeur and beauty, like a blind man amidst the finest 
scenery, or like one, deprived of the sense of smell, walk- 
ing among fragrant flowers. It is the intellectual sense, 
which gives light and beauty to Nature and art ; it is the 
sentiment of the beautiful, which is expressed in poetry, 
where the charm of language produces the effect of an 
art, by communicating to our senses the impressions of 
the soul. 

Considered in themselves, without reference to the 
abuse which they have suffered, the fine arts offer noth- 
ing but what is pure. Thus, like the creation itself, 
whose image they reflect, they awaken our hearts to the 
goodness of God ; they show forth the grandeur of the 
human mind, and those faculties, by which man revives, 
and transmits to others, his own impressions of the fea- 

In order to accomplish the good which they propose, they must be in- 
dustrious and economical, and they insensibly form moral habits. Thus 
they secure their respectability, and advancement in this world, at the 
same time that they learn to prize the blessings reserved for them in 
Heaven." 



COMMUNICATION OP KNOWLEDGE. 329 

tures which enchant him in the material world. From 
their birth consecrated to religion, the fine arts often give 
evidence of their high origin ; to the effects of their pe- 
culiar charm often adding those, which are more solemn 
and more salutary, and, as is expressed in the inscription 
of the Museum of Florence : Levan di terra al Ciel nos- 
tro intelletto.* 

The fine arts are not, however, directly addressed to the 
mind ; and, as their beautiful language reaches us through 
the medium of the senses, they may, for that reason, have 
an earthly tendency, and their study, unless well-directed, 
has its dangers. The sentiment of moral beauty, once 
awakened and excited by religion in the youthful mind, 
presents the triumph of the purest elements of our mental 
constitution. 

In order to a complete view of the Influence of differ- 
ent branches of knowledge on the mind, it would be nec- 
essary to treat of the moral sciences, and to point out 
their double tendency. This would lead us far beyond 
our present hmits. 

History should not be considered, by the young, as a 
mere narration of events ; but care should be early taken, 
to give to this important branch of education, a right mor- 
al influence. History may be regarded as a vast field, 
where He buried the beginnings of all things, and of all 
events ; where the mind, from tender infancy even to old 
age, may find aliment to refresh and Invigorate itself. 
But, that this ahment may be agreeable, a lively recital 
of facts is necessary. Narration should be simple and 
animated, breathing the spirit of the different ages which 
it presents to the mind. Imbued with this spirit, the his- 
torical judgement will not be false, partial, and unjust. 

By being too eager to inculcate our views of die ob- 
jects of history, and by dictating the part reason is to per- 
form, we may prevent the free exercise of this faculty. 
We need have no fear, but ideas and opinions will spring 
up, with respect to the mass of facts submitted to the 
mind, and that the moral and religious aspects of past 

* They raise our minds from earth to heaven. 
28* 



330 APPENDIX. 

events will unfold themselves ; but let us leave time to 
accomplish its work with the pupil. Let us not destroy 
the taste for a useful and charming study, by turning it 
into cold sermons upon morality ; or making it a vehicle 
for teaching, prematurely, a system of philosophy. In- 
teresting facts once known, an idea, which connects them 
into one group, is naturally sought for ; but deductions 
from history, presented in proof of abstract doctrines, 
destroy all its charms. 

The office of history is, to present important truths to 
the young mind, and to inspire it with a taste for them. 
These effects are powerfully produced by the study of the 
Holy Scriptures ; and, though less decided and salutary, 
by profane history. 

But can we not, it may be asked, secure and hasten 
these effects ^ Should w^e, who have regarded the natu- 
ral sciences, as favorable for developing good sentiments 
in children, derive no advantage from that which is much 
more likely to Influence morality, — the study of history ? 
It is certain, that an animated narration may easily excite 
noble emotions in young minds. An appeal to patriotism, 
to courage, to devotion, will always be understood ; but to 
demand a decision, from children, upon the moral merit or 
demerit of actions or characters, is to mistake their capaci- 
ty. In the natural sciences, material facts are explained 
by similar facts, and a long connection of sequences may 
be introduced, without referring to the first and immateri- 
al cause. In the study of history, on the contrary, the 
moral order is immediately presented. Passions, opin- 
ions, and interests, exjDlain the causes of actions, and 
conscience decides upon their morality. How can a 
child pronounce upon these things ? If called upon to 
reason, he may refer to the First Cause of all things, and 
suppose he is right, in imputing to God the faults of men. 

The imagination of a child presents to him lively pic- 
tures, and imparts knowledge by flashes ; whilst his judge- 
ment brings to its own level, behttles, and often profanes, 
the majesty of history. 

Yet we ought to inform children, with respect to the 
course we intend to pursue, in educating them. We 



METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 331 

should tell them, we consider ourselves as addressing in- 
telligent beings, and that, if sentiments of piety do not 
reign within their souls, the annals of the past may lead 
them to render homage to power, talents, and conquest, 
rather than to virtue. We would not give to history, in 
the view of the child, any false coloring ; we would not 
chill his generous emotions ; but we would forewarn 
him, that the laws of eternal justice do not always sanc- 
tion the admiration which may be excited for acts of 
heroism. 

It is thus that morality appears, in the sanctity with 
which Christianity has invested it. When we renounce, 
entirely, the idea of the original purity of the human 
heart, we no longer seek for perfection, except in the 
one Divine Model. We then see things under their true 
aspect ; we are no longer in fear, lest our principles may 
not support us ; and we dare to render justice to every 
thing in man, which attests his celestial origin. A relig- 
ious principle divests all scholastic pursuits of their pecu- 
liar dangers, and repels every seductive influence. The 
pupil, thus furnished, collects, in safety, the rich treasures 
which science has accumulated ; and, like the diver 
who ventures to the bottom of the sea in search of pearls, 
he carries with himself the means of ascending to higher 
and safer regions. 



CHAPTER III. 

METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 
•'Methods are the masters of masters." — Talleyrand. 

The means which we employ, in instruction, are of 
two kinds. We sometimes act upon the child, as if he 
were a being subjected to our laws, and again, as if he 
were perfectly free ; that is, we exercise a power over 
him, in directing the course of each study, and we solicit 
the aid of his will, by inspiring him with the desire of ad- 



332 APPENDIX. 

vancement. Hence results the obligation to choose, with 
care, both the methods of teaching, and the stimulants 
which are to rouse the pupil to exertion. 

I have before said, it is not my object to treat, partic- 
ularly, of methods. Considered philosophically, in its re- 
lation to the sciences, such a subject is beyond my pres- 
ent object, and would not lead to the end I have in view. 
To treat of the details of teaching, is no less foreign to 
my plan. More numerous than the objects of study, to 
which they are applied, methods are constantly improv- 
ing. There is no boundary here ; experience is contin- 
ually suggesting improvements. I shall, therefore, con- 
fine myself to some general reflections. 

What is meant by a good method, in any branch of 
instruction ? It is one, that will carry the pupil, in the 
least time, to the highest degree of advancement, both 
in theory and practice. Like every instrument, it should 
operate both expeditiously and effectively. This is the 
proximate end of method, and apphes to the instruction 
of all ages. But, with respect to childhood, there is an 
ultimate end, which may not thus be attained ; and this 
is, the best possible developement of the faculties. 

The consideration of time is important. It is not 
only necessary that the child advance, but that he be con- 
scious of his progress. For this reason, the instructor 
should consider, whether the method he proposes will be 
likely to bring forth fruit, within the hmited time which 
may be allowed for a particular study. It is necessary 
to take into the account, the time which can be devoted 
to each species of instruction. One serious inconvenience 
attends all methods, where considerable time must be taken 
up in preparatory exercises ; which is, that this time will 
be wholly lost, should the course of study be changed.* 

* As an illustration of the author's meaning, we may refer to the 
modes of teaching English grammar, formerly practised. The pupil 
was required to commit the whole body of the principles, rules, ex- 
ceptions, and exceptions to exceptions, of the grammar, before he was 
initiated into the sublime mystery of parsing. Thus it was often the 
case, that the quarter of academy schooling was lost on this barren 
exercise ; and when, after an interval of, perhaps, some months, the 



METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 333 

Every moment has, in education, a high value, and ought, 
of itself, to produce something beneficial. 

It may seem, that, in requiring advancement, in theory, 
as well as practice, we should provide for the develope- 
ment of the faculties. Theoretical knowledge is not, in- 
deed, compatible with a blind routine ; but yet, even 
this may be acquired, without any great effort of the in- 
tellect. The faculty of investigation is not exercised, 
when the pupil does nothing but comprehend what is ex- 
plained to him. His efforts of attention may be great, 
even excessive, without his lohole mind being exercised. 
In order to render this truly active, he must be employed 
in some research. 

The application of this truth, now so well understood, 
is the object of various attempts in education. Since 
Pestalozzi gave the impulse, the analytical method has 
become very popular. The object is, to make the child 
discover the principles of the science he is to learn ; and 
he is, therefore, placed in the situation of an inventor. 
The master calls his attention to facts, which the pupil is 
called upon to compare. When his remarks are not to 
the point, the teacher puts to him various questions, de- 
signed to set him upon the right track, until, enlightened 
by some fortunate idea, he is, at length, conducted to the 
principle sought for. But, during this long route, the 
child, although he neither comprehends what his^ teacher 
aims at, nor has any distinct end in view, notwithstand- 
ing the honor of discovery, with which he is flattered, 
is not always treated as a rational being. He is ignorant 
why he is encouraged or repelled, as he points out one 
resemblance or another, among facts ; and, as he does 
not believe in the pretended ignorance of the teacher, 
he is astonished, that he is permitted to waste so much 
time, in endeavoring to find out what might so easily have 
been communicated.* 

pupil was again sent to school, and the grammar had escaped from his 
memory, the same routine of preparation was pursued. Thus he fin- 
ished his education, while employed in beginning it. 

* Madame De Saussure remarks, that it has been declared possi- 
ble, for those who are incompetent, to pass tolerably well, as teachers. 



334 APPENDIX. 

We must acknowledge, that, in the inverse method, 
or that, in which the general principle is first estabhshed, 
the parts are more naturally distributed. The more en- 
lightened speaks, the ignorant one hstens, and asks for 
explanations, when he does not understand. Not being 
required to discriminate, amidst an immense and confused 
mass of facts, of which he is ignorant, he is first made ac- 
quainted with those general important facts, which serve 
as a rallying point for others ; thus, his memory is not 
prematurely charged with too heavy a burden. 

But here, there is danger of an illusion. The first prin- 
ciple, and its derivatives, are long taken upon trust ; and, 
as they represent nothing sensible and real, w^e are not 
always sure that the pupil understands their import. The 
application of the rule may, in process of time, test his 
discernment ; but, even though he may chance to hit 
upon the truth, here, he is not put upon a process of dis- 
covery. Thus, though the judgement is exercised, the 
investigating faculty lies dormant. 

The superiority of the method of investigation, in 
promoting the activity of the mind, is very evident. 
Another argument in its favor is, that a similar course 
is followed, in the involuntary acquisition of knowledge. 
Children, when they learn to speak, seize, at first, cer- 
tain words, which serve as a clue to others ; and, going 
thus from the known to the unknown, they acquire an 
astonishing amount of knowledge respecting the objects 
around them, and of the terms by which they are designa- 
ted. In leading the young, to seek for the relations which 
facts bear to each other, and to give an account of the re- 
sults of their inquiries, we may early imbue them with the 
true philosophical spirit ; — and when, in ascending from 
facts to facts, they arrive at the first principle, they will 
have more clearly followed a logical course, than if they 

But she thinks, with respect to the analytical mode of instruction, 
this is not the case ; that the teacher, here, needs both knowledge 
and tact ; that, in the interrogative process, where no certain path is 
marked out by a text-book, the labor falls upon the teacher as well 
as the pupil. A method, she justly remarks, may be used mechani- 
cally, by common minds, in their attempts to develope other minds. 



METHODS OF INSTRUCTION. 335 

had, at the commencement, taken the primary principle 
upon trust. It is not certain, that this course can be al- 
ways followed ; but the combination of the two methods 
presents many advantages. 

What we have to fear from the explanatory method 
is, that, in its uniform and definite course, both teacher 
and learner may become dull : the interrogative method, 
employed too exclusively, may give the pupil a disrelish 
to any other manner of instruction, and prevent the calm 
and patient hearing of future teachers. This is often the 
fault of Hvely intellects, and is an obstacle to the acquisi- 
tion of knowledge from many sources. When a person 
suffers his mind to go in search of what is probably about 
to be said, he is- diverted from the instruction which is 
offered. For this reason, the habit of listening attentive- 
ly to the course of an explanation, should be acquired. 
Respect and deference for others, also, require that young 
persons should learn to be good hsteners. We ought, 
then, as circumstances may require, to vary our manner 
of instruction. It is absurd, to sacrifice intellectual and 
even moral advantages, to a favorite method of teaching.* 

In examining this subject, we see that the peculiarities 
of different methods ought to be reciprocally modified, 
and all their advantages seized. One of the most impor- 
tant of all advantages, — the exercise of the intellect, — if 
too much sought for, will lead to fatiguing and often useless 
subtilties ; while a spiritless routine will have a most in- 
jurious effect on intellectual dev elopement. But, that es- 
sential point secured, we would not exclude even learn- 
ing by rote. Indeed, it Is necessary, in many studies, 
that the pupil should commit words to memory. 

Most studies offer some barren regions, where the 

* This is a subject which teachers would do well to consider. The 
child is not a machine, to be acted upon by preconceived impulses, 
— by a certain set of motives, which are independent of the existing 
state of his own mind. Changing as the human mind is, the educator 
must be prepared to vary his methods, in order to adapt them to the 
necessities of the moment, as the skilful mariner trims his sails to cor- 
respond to the state of the wind ; for as well might the sailor attempt 
to force the wind in the direction of his vessel, as the teacher expect 
that his methods are to alter the nature of the mind of his pupil. 



336 APPENDIX. 

mind can collect but slight additions to its stores of knowl- 
edge. It would be well, as far as it is practicable, to 
make a separation between these and more profitable 
fields of thought. Mere repositories of names and 
facts, exceptions to rules, anomalies, that which treats 
of received usages rather than true principles, — all these 
are like those uninteresting tracts of country, which the 
traveller is wilHng to pass in the night. Whatever will 
facilitate the progress of the pupil through these wastes, 
amuse and enliven his imagination, may be admhted, 
provided it is not injurious to the future character of the 
mind. , But we can approve of no method, which will 
not ultimately carry the learner to the very heart of sci- 
ence, to those central ideas, which give to knowledge its 
consistence and unity. The efforts, necessary to arrive 
at this depth, are salutary and invigorating ; the pains 
and labor have their reward. There is a great satisfac- 
tion, — a satisfaction, which seems alHed even to that of a 
quiet conscience, — in being able to understand what w^e 
learn, and to grasp our subject with the energy of all our 
faculties. 

There are other considerations, connected with the sub- 
ject of teaching, which have some weight, such as di- 
vision of the time allotted to study, the arrangement of 
localities, and the number and kinds of the agents, by 
which instruction is to be carried on. All these are 
circumstances, to be submitted to the decisions of experi- 
ence. The Lancasterian method, by employing means 
for addressing the senses of children, has been found 
useful for communicating primary instruction to the great 
mass of the ignorant, but of little use in rousing the intel- 
lect, since its tendency is rather mechanical. Time, alone, 
can determine the value of a variety of newly-proposed 
modes of teaching. We cannot but feel a great interest 
in the private establishments where these different modes 
are now undergoing a test. As for pubhc education, we 
are fortunate, in having certain results to examine, before 
resolving to overthrow long-estabhshed institutions. 



MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 337 



CHAPTER IV. 

CONTINUATION OF MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 

*' The Christian pupil has an internal emulation ; he seeks to equal a 
model placed within his own breast." — Anonymous. 

It Is not only important, in education, to combine and 
skilfully to employ good methods, but to act upon the will, 
and subdue or direct the strongest and most impetuous 
feelings of the soul. The learning and the plans of an 
instructer are of no use, if he have not the address to se- 
cure the cooperation of his pupils ; if he cannot excite 
and maintain in them, a desire to learn. To succeed in 
this, he must make use of motives, which act powerfully 
upon the human soul ; he must either take advantage of 
the natural desire for knowledge, or stimulate it, when dor- 
mant. 

In some cases, little more is necessary, than to arrange 
for the pupil a course of studies. The taste for learning, 
once produced, will carry him onward, often, indeed, be- 
yond proper bounds ; for, as the regular lessons every day 
inspire with new zeal, this thirst for knowledge may have 
even an unfavorable influence upon the character. We 
must, then, consider the subject in a moral point of view. 
This duty becomes the more necessary, where the mind 
appears premature in its developements ; as we have rea- 
son to distrust an unnatural precocity. 

The tastes, which favor the progress of the young in va- 
rious kinds of knowledge, are almost universal. The fond- 
ness of children for flowers, shells, birds, and all the bril- 
liant objects of natural history ; the interest excited by the 
recital of the wonderful facts and heroic adventures which 
history presents ; the agreeable impressions derived from 
the arts of music and drawing ; the curiosity excited by 
the wonderful or mysterious phenomena of natural philos- 
ophy and chemistry ; the pleasure attached to mental ac- 
tivity, and the pride of mastering difficulties ; in short, the 
29 xviii. 



338 APPENDIX. 

satisfaction of acquiring new ideas, of comprehending 
the reasons of the varied operations of art which they see 
around them, and the hope of being, themselves, able to 
perform the same ; — such are the natural sources, whence 
may be derived a taste for study. These are the motives, 
whose strength education may safely invigorate ; and the 
more proof we have of their activity, the more confident- 
ly we may expect their future improvement, and the more 
interesting do they, for the present, appear. 

These motives may exist ; they may operate silently ; 
and their influence will often wholly disappear, when more 
lively pleasures are presented. We cannot expect, that 
the charms of study will strike the imagination of childhood, 
like their noisy games and turbulent pleasures. These 
are delightful compensations to those, who are willing to 
sacrifice lively amusements for study ; but children do not 
know of this ; for intellectual enjoyments have no sensible 
signs, by which they can be painted to the imagination. 
Children will, it is true, resign themselves, from necessity, 
to that which they would never have preferred ; but a pref- 
erence for study must be carefully cultivated. In this pref- 
erence lies the germ of talent, the hope and promise of 
the future man. The taste for intellectual enjoyments in- 
creasing with years, at length no pleasures are relished, but 
such as are allied to our purest and most noble faculties. 

But it would be unwise, to speak to children, too much, 
of enjoyments which they are neither prepared to under- 
stand, nor to relish. We need not flatter ourselves, that 
the hope of the pleasure, to be derived from study, will 
be sufficient, to excite them to the performance of this 
duty. We must place other motives before them ; but 
none should ever be employed, which will tend to impair 
the natural tastes which would insure future application. 
What, then, shall we say of such motives, as, by impairing 
the amiable dispositions and disturbing the serenity of the 
mind, would endanger the moral character ? Punishments 
and rewards are small means, whose utility, at best, is of 
short duration. But we must, in treating of education, 
not forget to study the effect of the great instrument^ 
whose influence always increases with increasing years ; 



MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 339 

that exciting instrument, self-love, which often leads to the 
most sordid selfishness in matm^e years. 

In remarking upon the subject of emulation, it is proper 
to make certain distinctions. If we understand by emula- 
tion, the powerful effects of example ; that sudden convic- 
tion of the power of the will, which is produced by witness- 
ing the success of another ; that sympathetic ardor, which 
is naturally communicated among those who are running 
the same race ; we speak of a result, as innocent as it is 
advantageous. We cannot blame, nor should we seek to 
stifle, in the child, a desire of being noticed, and the par- 
ticular object of approbation or esteem. This is an in- 
destructible propensity, and a powerful motive to improve- 
ment. 

But, from the desire of elevating ourselves above others 
to that of seeing them descend below us, there is but a 
short and slippery step. Does education always tend to 
guard against this ? It is one thing, to suffer a propensity, 
which Nature has implanted, to remain ; and another, to 
rouse and strengthen, in every possible manner, that pro- 
pensity. Self-love is mingled with all om' emotions ; it 
is allied to our most disinterested affections ; if we analyze 
our most noble sentiments, we may find traces of its influ- 
ence. All that we can ask is, that the generous feelings 
may prevail above the selfish, and appear so decided, that 
we cannot mistake them. We can expect nothing more 
of a human being, and ought to respect even that amiable 
illusion, which leads one to suppose himself entirely dis- 
interested. 

Here, as elsewhere, the bounds of our duty do not ex- 
tend beyond our power. To pretend to root out self- 
love is chimerical ; but intentionally to increase it is sin- 
ful. And when we see institutions for education so 
conducted, as to foment envy, and excite rivalry, making 
one pupil desire advantages from the faults of another, can 
we avoid raising our voice in condemnation of such an 
order of things ? Why maintain that knowledge ought to 
render mankind better, when, for the sake of a little more 
knowledge, we expose them to be made worse ? It is 
asserted, that the evil, which results from this course, is 



340 APPENDIX. 

not very great ; but can it be justified, if it is productive 
of moral depravity, in any degree ? 

It may be said, that childhood is too thoughtless, to 
be capable of jealousy ; but, fermented by the succeeding 
age, or new passions, it must, at length, produce formid- 
able effects. Do not late fruits ripen in their season, as 
well as those of early growth ? And, since the result 
is every where proportioned to the cause ; since a dis- 
sembled pride or an obtrusive vanity are faults, common 
among pupils who contend most eagerly for scholastic 
prizes, how is it possible to remain blind to the unhappy 
tendency of that mode of education, in which emulation 
is made the mainspring of activity ? 

Competition for prizes, it is said, is only an anticipation 
of what takes place in real life, where emulation is a 
powerful stimulus to activity. But it has been the evi- 
dent intention of Providence, to remove childhood and 
youth from the danger of those exciting struggles. For 
this purpose, it has defended this period of life from harsh 
and bitter sentiments ; it has armed it with gayety and 
improvidence, sympathy with the pleasures of others, 
and independence of their opinions. 

When we examine, attentively, the influence of a pow- 
erful self-love, w^e are led to the conclusion, that, if it 
sometimes promotes the acquirement of knowledge, it is, 
in general, injurious to the developement of the mind. 
It arrests, in two ways, the free expansion of the intellect, 
by favoring certain efforts of labor and of memory. Con- 
sidered in one aspect, self-love is evidently contrary to an 
impartial search after truth ; since, having once declared 
in favor of an opinion, it shuts out all access to light, 
and obliges him who is governed by it, to pursue a course 
contrary to good sense, morality, and even self-interest on 
a large scale. In another aspect, selfishness is unfavor- 
able to real talent, in stifling the dispositions which favor 
its growth. 

Talent, in its least, as in its most brilliant, manifesta- 
tions, is merely the power of acting upon others, by trans- 
mitting our own emotions ; the energetic and powerful ex- 
pression of the sentiment which animates our own minds. 



MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 341 

Whether talent employ words or gestures, sounds or col- 
ors, whether it exhibit itself by means of the canvass or 
marble, it is always a language, estabhshing, between our 
own souls and the souls of others, a lively and rapid com- 
munication. 

For the developement of talent in youth, it is neces- 
sary, first, that impressions upon the mind should be 
strong, and that objects or ideas should act forcibly upon 
the imagination ; secondly, there should be the convic- 
tion, that we have to influence our fellow-beings, and that, 
by the power of sympathy, the same emotions may be 
made to agitate their hearts and ours ; the same chords, 
which vibrate in our souls, may be touched in theirs. 
Without the liveliness of impressions, all the images of 
the soul would be faded and obscured, and there would 
be nothing distinct, to transmit to others. Without the 
hope of communicating what we feel, the strongest im- 
pressions would be obhterated, without any external man- 
ifestations. 

Viewed under these relations, we may estimate the bad 
effect of self-love, when too much excited. It disturbs 
the mind, and prevents it from receiving the best impres- 
sions from without. Pre-occupied with petty personal 
passions, every thing, foreign to our own interests, passes 
unperceived. Some sensations are too strong ; others, too 
weak ; the harmony between us and Nature is broken. 
Our relations with our fellow-beings are changed ; and 
this self-love destroys that mutual benevolence, which 
gives us access to the hearts of others. As love gives 
birth to love, sympathy also propagates itself. As it 
communicates to us the secret of what passes in the hearts 
of others, it attests, also, to them, the truth of our senti- 
ments. In order to be mutually understood, mutual sen- 
timents must be expressed ; and that creates a shade of 
affection. It is when we acknowledge others as beings 
of the same nature, as our brethren, that we can make 
them partake of our emotions. 

Self-love has an effect very different from all this. 
Though persuading us that we are superior to others, it 
yet places us in an inferior position to them. We con- 
29* 



342 APPENDIX. 

sider ourselves, as before the tribunal of their thoughts, 
and immediately begin to suspect them. We no sooner 
regard them as judges, than we cease to love them. Ev- 
ery thing, which they do to please us, is counted selfish 
and hypocritical. Assuredly, genuine talent can never 
display itself in such an atmosphere of suspicion. 

These remarks are applicable to infancy. The germ 
of talent is of the nature of talent itself, and is much more 
easily stifled. 

To cause the young to live in that state of irritation, pro- 
duced by anxiety to supplant others, and the fear of being 
supplanted by them, is injurious in many ways ; it is act- 
ing upon their sensitive nerves, spoihng their temper, and 
leading them, in case of disappointment, to seek revenge 
in slander, and ridicule, — those unworthy propensities, 
which destroy every noble feehng of the heart. And 
when this spirit, but too contagious, seizes upon the in- 
structors, themselves, it must ever be a barrier to that 
kindness and generous enthusiasm, without which, the 
best fruits of instruction are lost.* 

Emulation may rouse the attention, and fix it upon a 
definite point, and thus a momentary advantage is gained. 
But that lively sentiment of the beautiful, that transport, 
amounting almost to inspiration, which sometimes shines 
forth in the sparkling eyes of childhood, is chilled and de- 
stroyed by self-love ; and, in its place, is substituted the 

* There is something of ambiguity in the above sentence, which we 
translate from Madame de Saussure. Does the author refer to a spirit 
of partiality for particular pupils, or to rivalship among instructers 
themselves ? In either case, the fault cannot be too much condemned. 
An instructer should watch himself very closely, lest his affections 
(which cannot but be more interested for some pupils than others) 
should bias his judgement, or, in some way or another, improperly in- 
fluence his conduct. Nothing has a more chilling effect on the generous 
emulation of a young person, than the idea, that he is disliked by his 
teacher, or is not allowed the same advantages as his fellows. Rival- 
ship among teachers, in the same institution, should be guarded against. 
There is much in faithful instruction, that cannot be exhibited at a pub- 
lic examination ; the salutary influence upon the heart, by a moral and 
religious application of the various branches of learning, with the gen- 
eral expansion of the intellect, are in great danger of being overlooked, 
when the teacher is too ambitious of having his classes make a public 
display. 



MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 343 

idea, that, to obtain the praise of others, it is necessary, 
first, to flatter, and then servilely to follow that course 
which will please them. Thus are extinguished the bet- 
ter feelings and originality of the soul. 

We are Hkely to deceive ourselves, as to the value of 
excitements, when we take a limited view of their effects. 
Self-love, like other stimulants, though giving a tempo- 
rary animation, may be followed by languor. Active 
minds do not need it, to lead them to distinguish them- 
selves, while the idle, whom it impels forward, will be 
very likely to sink back to mediocrity. But if, by its 
means, a young person, of limited capacity, is made to 
attain some intellectual eminence, how great a price is 
paid for the advantage ! How many expectations are 
excited, which society will never acknowledge ! How 
often does the remembrance of college honors* serve, in 
after periods, to nourish disappointment and bitterness of 
feehng, at what seems the injustice of society ! And in 
how many instances does this stimulus of self-love lead to 
unworthy objects, in order to gain the miserable triumph 
of popular applause, which so much depends on the 
breath of the ignorant and vulgar. 

When any mode, resorted to in instruction, is decidedly 
dangerous to morality, and not without its evils, even with 
respect to intellectual developement, ought not education, 
the guardian of the mind, to forbid its use ? 

* The sentiments of Madame de Saussure, on this subject, will be 
read with interest, by those who take any part in the question now ag- 
itated in many literary institutions, with respect to the custom of award- 
ing college honors. It would seem, that the students of some colleges, 
aware of the tendency of these distinctions, have, in a body, petitioned 
to be saved from such dangerous rivalry. But it is not always practica- 
ble to change, at once, long-established customs ; and the ofhcers of 
literary institutions must, themselves, judge in these matters. When 
students attempt to prescribe to their instructers, the latter ought to 
maintain their authority, and yield nothing upon compulsion. But, with 
respect to the invidious distinctions which have been esteemed neces- 
sary, in order to keep up a spirit of emulation among students, popu- 
lar feeling seems on the side of reason, and ancient custom must, ere 
long, yield to their combined influence. Public examinations have all 
the good effects of honorary distinctions ; causing each pupil to feel, 
that he will he appreciated according to his own merits, and leading 
hina to endeavor to elevate himself, without wishing to sink others. 



S44 APPENDIX. 

The part of the moralist, which we here assume, is, un- 
doubtedly, very easy. In morality, we start from a fixed 
point. Wherever we meet with evil, we repel it ; yet we 
do not hold ourselves bound to furnish a remedy. When 
the morahst has compared facts with the rule, his work 
is finished. It is otherwise with the educator. He feels 
himself bound to give hfe to the institution over which he 
presides ; and, if he should suppress one active motive 
without being sure of substituting a better, he might ex- 
change a known evil for an unknown. Parents are still 
more excusable ; they can only place their children in 
establishments already existing ; and, in instructing them 
at home, they find it very difficult to prevent the growth 
of self-love. It is a fact, that, in domestic education, a 
vanity is often fostered, more irritable, blind, and prepos- 
terous, than results from any pubhc education. 

When we see, clearly, the evil, and, above all, the moral 
evilj of this self-love, then, only, will the proper means, to 
be employed for its diminution, present themselves to our 
reflection. Some occasional honorary distinctions, of a 
nature not calculated to excite bitter feelings in tliose to 
whom they are not awarded, not gained at their expense, 
nor by comparison with them, but by individual merit, may 
be one of these means.* 

The talent of the person presiding over a literary insti- 
tution, to encourage the timid, by commendation, and yet 
to do justice to the real claims of others, must be the great 
support to be relied on, in that important part of education, 
which relates to the formation of the moral character. 

There is something so odious and demoralizing in riv- 
alship between brethren, that children, educated in their 
father's house, ought most carefully to be preserved from 
it. The difficulty of exciting, without this emulation, the 
necessary zeal for study, will vanish, in proportion as the 
moral training is carried along, and made to combine with 
intellectual. Children are not accustomed to consider 
active obligations. Duty is usually represented to thera 

* We have already suggested that, in schools, well-conducted public 
examinations are found to afford all the benefits of competition for prizes 
or honors, without any of its bad eiTects. 



MEANS OF INSTRUCTION. EMULATION. 345 

as a barrier, which opposes itself to the commission of 
certain acts, or of disobedience towards their instructers. 
There is nothing in this passive virtue to give hfe to mor- 
ality. A rein may be necessary, but its office is very 
different from that of a spur. But there are various senti- 
inents, if we can succeed in inspiring and so uniting them, 
that they may exist in harmony and reciprocally aid each 
other, which offer a mass of motives, sufficient to restrain 
or excite the will. One of the first of these sentiments, 
which appears in the young mind, is filial love ; this, which 
is the natural growth of the soul, produces a lively desire 
for that improvement, which so much interests the parent. 
Afterwards, succeeds the love of God, which, in making 
obedience to the will of the parent a sacred duty, will 
supersede the necessity of emulation. These affections, 
which it is both easy* and delightful to inspire, excite in 
the heart of the young person a desire to perform his duty. 
But, in order to give activity to this desire, we must asso- 
ciate the child with us, in his own education. When we 
consult him upon the means of obtaining from him appli- 
cation, industry, and wisdom ; when we seriously examine, 
with him, the various obstacles, which oppose themselves 
to the execution of his good resolutions ; he will take pleas- 
ure in suggesting the course which might best be taken 
with him ; he will feel interested in the success of his 
plan ; and will thus learn to regard the fulfilment of duty 
as something of importance. 

In following such a method, the child will be furnished 
with an occasion to exercise his own mind to great ad- 
vantage ; for nothing quickens penetration more, than the 
examination of the secret motives and desires which lead 
us to action. The confidence, which we repose in the 
child, will serve as a proof of esteem, which he will be 
anxious more and more to deserve. In short, he will 

* It is scarcely necessary, perhaps, to remark, that Madame de 
Saussure here undoubtedly means to be understood, tliat, with God's 
blessing upon our efforts, it is easy to inspire the young with love to 
Ilim. Indeed, without the Divine blessing, neither the seeds of virtue, 
which we implant in the infant mind, nor those of plants, which we 
place in the bosom of the earth, can ever germinate. 



346 APPENDIX. 

be no longer, with respect to the parental government, 
Hn the oppositions^ but he will often renew an alliance 
with his father, in order that they may, together, subdue 
a rebellious being, wilful, headstrong, eager for pleasure, 
and yet repenting of his misdeeds. Reproofs will be 
changed to consultations ; the father or the instructer will 
be the physician, seeking to cure, rather than the severe 
judge, who would condemn. The child, by degrees, will 
seek to manage himself in those critical moments, when 
his evil propensities are striving for the mastery. And 
who does not know, by the experience of his own heart, 
that there are such moments, — moments in which every 
one should be acquainted how to deal with himself? 
This labor of self-education, which should occupy the 
whole of life, how continually does it call us to counteract 
the defects of our moral constitution ! 

It is thus, that, in teaching a child to divide himself, 
as it were, into two persons, and to find a monitor within 
his own breast, that we render more prominent to his view, 
the idea of duty. The amiable sentiments, of which each 
one would, alone, be insufficient to give stability to the 
levity of childhood, will thus gain a powerful ascendency, 
by their harmony, and by the varied exercise which they 
find in the accomplishment of good resolutions. 

The calm enjoyments of study are experienced, when 
the mind is thus under the gentle influences of quiet and 
well-regulated emotions, and intellectual tastes are formed 
beneath the fostering care of a happy disposition. Such 
advantages cannot exist, where self-love is excited by a 
baleful spirit of emulation, or, in other words, rivalship ; 
its effects will be felt, not only in youth, but in afterhfe ! 
Thus do we find, that the principle of emulation, though 
a spur, which, by goading the mind, drives it onward, is 
a dangerous and fearful agent, in the work of education. 



RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION. 347 



CHAPTER V. 

RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION. 

" We should rather cultivate in our children the spirit of piety, than 
the desire of happiness." — Richter. 

x\fter due consideration, we find that a necessity, inhe- 
rent to the nature of things, obliges us to found instruction 
upon the basis of religion. This we believe to be, not 
only a sacred duty, but a necessary condition, of every 
well-ordered plan of teaching. If God, the Creator of 
the universe and of the soul, is the foundation of all prin- 
ciples in the order of material things. He is no less so in 
the order of ideas. We must ascend to Him, if we would 
form one whole of all human sciences, and unite the phys- 
ical to the moral world. God, whose will is sometimes 
manifested, sensibly, as in the creation ; sometimes, spir- 
itually, as in the laws of conscience ; and sometimes, more 
definitely, in his express revelation, — God, should be the 
centre of human affections, as of human thoughts. He 
is the focus, where all rays should meet. If the idea of 
Him does not unite with and govern all others, if it remain 
isolated, and independent of our plan of instruction, — this 
must, as a system, be incomplete and ineffective. That 
cannot be called a system, which is an incoherent assem- 
blage of detached parts, having neither harmony nor unity. 

If we pass from the consideration of instruction, to that 
of the being to be instructed, we are solemnly called upon, 
to regard the education of the soul as the great object. 
We are called on to form an immortal soul, to develope 
undying faculties, in harmonious proportions. An instruc- 
ter should first examine the nature of the different faculties 
he is to cultivate, and then, in reference to this cultivation, 
consider the general influence of instruction, and the par- 
ticular objects of each study. 

This examination will convince him, that, among the 
faculties, there is an intimate connection. When he would 



348 APPENDIX. 

confine himself to any of the intellectual powers, he soon 
finds, that sentiment has its influence, as a motive, as an 
object of knowledge, even as an intimate and inseparable 
element, giving its peculiar hue to every expression of 
thought. This truth becomes striking, in the application. 
As soon as the pupil begins to apply his acquired knowl- 
edge, the absence or presence of sentiment is manifest ; 
internal harmony and beauty of thought, or barrenness and 
indifference, at once reveal themselves. 

Yet, in intellectual education, the reason is almost 
wholly addressed. This course seems, in a great degree, 
to be required in elementary instruction ; and, in higher 
studies, which would naturally bring forward other fac- 
uhies, the routine of teaching produces similar effects. 
Habit, thus uniform, strengthens itself; and the mind, in 
time, loses that flexibihty, which is necessary to free exer- 
cise and expansion. 

These reflections are supported by facts. How often 
do we hear complaints of the barrenness of imagination, 
at the present epoch of civilization ! Who does not feel, 
that the fine arts have lost their inspiration } 

Is not this, in some measure, to be ascribed to the bent 
given to the mind, by education ^ Attention, strongly 
confined to one point, arrests the free play of the imagi- 
nation ; and the creative faculties unfold themselves, only 
when the mind, yielding itself up to the influence of some 
prevaihng sentiment, is no longer conscious of effort. 

In remarking upon methods of instruction, we have ad- 
mitted their importance, and given some advice, with res- 
pect to the principles, according to which they should be 
appreciated. We have insisted upon a proper regard to 
the moral character of the motives resorted to, in order 
to rouse the faculties. If, to the dryness of certain stud- 
ies, is joined that of the mode of teaching, and selfish- 
ness is depended on, as the only spring of activity, we 
can expect no better result, than barrenness of soul and 
deadness to all the finer feelings of our nature. The 
absence of those better sentiments, which should have 
been early implanted, seems, apparently, to render it nec- 
essary to appeal to the principle of self-love. We have 



RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION. 349 

demonstrated, that this kind of excitement is unfavorable 
to talent : and we are also certain, that it is hurtful to 
the most amiable natural disposilioiis ; to those qualities, 
which give and receive happiness, throughout the whole 
of existence. 

We would renew our entreaties, that those, who have 
the charge of educating the young, would seek to culti- 
vate the noblest faculties of our nature, by a care to pre- 
serve the soul in a state of internal harmony. And, as 
regular studies, well directed, provide for the develope- 
ment of the reasoning powers, the instructer should be 
watchful, that the nobler faculties of the soul do not de- 
cay, for want of exercise. The religious sentiment, that 
fountain of noble thoughts, piety, that one thing needful^ 
will, above all, promote the great objects of education, 
considered even in reference to its bearing upon the char- 
acter, as it may hereafter be unfolded by the scenes of 
this life. 

It would not seem necessary to urge so many motives, 
to induce parents to give to their children a religious ed- 
ucation. Parental love should speak louder, in behalf of 
the welfare of the child, than any advocate can do ; and 
yet, the aspect of the times, when viewed in reference to 
this subject, is not such as the true friend of Christian ed- 
ucation could wish. Religious feeling may, indeed, be 
seen to have an active influence, in small circles ; but a 
cold generation, proud of itself and of its plans, occupies 
the foreground of the picture. Various causes have par- 
alyzed the chords which should have vibrated in a delight- 
ful harmony, and have directed the energies of great minds 
towards material objects, only. Is such a tendency to be 
perpetuated ? Shall the human mind ever remain chained 
to this clod of earth ? We believe, such is not the de- 
sign of Providence ; we see light in prospect ; new and 
less contracted minds are entering upon the scene ; and 
an impartial search after truth is leading such to discard 
those methods in education, which would unfit it for a 
purer state of existence. 

The education of youth, in some countries, conducted 
by superior minds, has become more interesting, more 
30 xvni. 



350 APPENDIX. 

elevated, and more favorable to piety ; but instruction, 
addressed to hearts already chilled, cannot do mucli ; it 
cannot produce its best fruits, unless the soil have been 
early prepared. 

In other countries, the changes which we see announced 
in studies, appear directed by the calculating spirit of a 
generation, where material interests, and the means of 
securing them, seem to be the end, and self-love the mo- 
tive, of action. By some, attempts are made to abolish 
the study of antiquity, which gave, at least, grandeur and 
dignity to the soul, which excited a taste for harmony and 
beauty, and, almost miraculously, caused Christianity to 
spring forth from the bosom of Paganism ; that study, 
which presented the grandest idea of liberty and love of 
country, as a subject for veneration, a motive for patriotic 
devotion, rather than the guarantee of a personal right, and 
led men to consecrate themselves to the interests of their 
country, rather than to calculate the exact value of their 
own part in its interests.* 

* The chances of travelling gave me, not many years since, an op- 
portunity of witnessing the behavior and listening to the sentiments of 
two young men, who had just completed their course of scholastic ed- 
ucation, at institutions of a very different character. Brown was a 
graduate of one of those modern schools, where boys are suddenly 
made men ; where a smattering of French, Spanish, and Italian, ig 
substituted for the old Greek and Latin classics, and mathematics, with 
the practical sciences therewith connected, are made to crowd out such 
supposed useless branches as the belles-lettres, and moral and intel- 
lectual philosophy. Some knowledge of military tactics, and a little 
accompanying drilling, are considered as sufficient to form the gentle- 
man, while the course of studies is designed merely to form the busi- 
ness man. Smith was a graduate of one of our old colleges, where the 
students are called by the matin bell to their orisons, instead of being 
roused by a drum to the morning drill. Smith had been a hard stu- 
dent ; for he gained his advantages by teaching a school, in vacation, 
and had been early inured to industry, under the guidance of that en- 
ergetic instructer, necessity. He had passed through college with 
honor, and left it, a Christian, a classical scholar, with noble sentiments 
of duty, rather than an eager desire to make money. When I saw 
him, he had just been appointed to fill an honorable station, as profes- 
sor in a literary institution in New England, and Brown was on his way 
to Texas, to make a fortune, under the auspices of the adventurer, 
Houston. From a circumstance which fell under my observation, in 
the early part of my acquaintance with Brown, I had seen that he was 
unprincipled ; from his conversation, I learned that his heart was cold 



RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION. 351 

The history of education shows us, that a new spirit, 
emanating from the bosom of the literary world, is so slow 
to diffuse itself, that, before it pervades literary institu- 
tions, its influence from without has ceased. There re- 
mains, therefore, in colleges, either for good or for evil, 
the remnant of a very ancient spirit. But what is that, 
which some are now so desirous to introduce ? It is the 
very spirit, which is disappearing from the intellectual 
heights of civilization ; it is the tendency to value, as 
nothing, that which does not fall within the grasp of the 
senses, that which iveighs nothing, measures nothing, and 
cannot^ therefore^ be subjected to the laws of calculation. 

Let us beware : if we attempt to suppress, in education, 
all which speaks to the sentiment, to the imagination, in 
short, to the soul, we shall open the way to materialism, 
at the very moment in which materialism is vanishing. 

The doctrines of the materialists have never, indeed, 
been openly professed in schools. In substituting a sci- 
entific for a literary education, we do but leach the pupil 
facts, which it is important for him to know, and which, of 
themselves, have no irreligious tendency. Such instruc- 
tion, in my opinion, is very insufficient for the harmoni- 
ous developement of the human mind ; but yet, this mind 
is endowed with such a wonderful pliancy, and all facts 

and dead to the poetry of Nature, and the inspirations of religion, and 
his manners were uninteresting, and essentially vulgar. He spoke with 
contempt of those studies and pursuits, whose immediate utility was 
not apparent. The ancient languages, in his opinion, were good for 
nothing. A knowledge of them neither enabled one to survey a field, 
to measure a mountain, nor analyze a soil. The cause of learning 
was advocated, with much enthusiasm, by Smith. The noble counte- 
nance of this young man proved a true index of an elevated mind ; 
the lineaments of the soul had given their stamp to the expression of 
the features. He was, himself, an embodied argument in favor of his 
college. Logic assisted him to see clearly the scope and end of an ar- 
gument ; classical studies enriched his language with choice words an4 
beautiful illustrations •, the study of the mind of man taught him to 
respect, even the weakness and prejudices of his fellow-man; and a re- 
ligious education, by inspiring him with humility, forbade his triumph 
when his wordy antagonist was obliged to quit the field of argument, 
crest-fallen, and sensible, that either Nature, education, or both, had 
given his opponent a mind with which his own, fortified, as it was, 
w'lih Jiuxio us and conic sections, might not measure itself. 



352 APPENDIX. 

connect tliemselves so easily with the idea of Deity, that 
sentiments of piety jnight be inspired, even under many 
disadvantages, if the task were sincerely attempted. But 
does this make any part of the plan of those, so ardently 
engaged in promoting the reform of schools ? Full of the 
importance of what was new in their youth, they lose sight 
of the general interests of mankind. Because civilization 
was arrested, when religion was pretended to be taught 
without knowledge, they imagine, that it will be promoted, 
by giving knowledge without religion. Strangely jealous 
of liberty of conscience, they are displeased with the least 
allusion to creeds the most universal, even with the ac- 
knowledgement of a Creator, or a Providence. They 
fear to shock the ivorshippers of nothing. 

Yet, whether they wish it or not, a belief in some- 
thing supernatural is almost universal ; but this belief is 
vague and inactive, without the vivifying influence of the 
Christian faith ; and can boast of no good fruits. I am 
far from denying the advancement to which the perfection 
of reason has carried the human race. Wherever civili- 
zation has truly advanced, we meet with better ideas of 
justice, of Order, with good, and often generous inten- 
tions. Natural qualities sometimes present themselves 
under a favorable aspect. Yet the absence of religious 
motives is but too evident ; we feel, that there is no wor- 
ship of the soul, and that its relations w'ith Heaven are 
broken. That which may be called the religion of hu- 
man sentiments seems to be effaced with the religion of 
the Bible ; that beautiful extension of filial piety, respect 
for old age, is enfeebled ; there is a desire for social in- 
tercourse, but the cement of society seems dissolved ; 
many duties are accomplished, some virtues are prac- 
tised, but neither duty nor virtue have a character of sanc- 
tity. The order of this world may be regular, but there 
seems little thought of a world to come ; the terrestrial 
element is lively, the celestial has vanished ; what others 
do is little thought of ; each one seems bent on magnify- 
ing his own deeds. When the idea of a perfect example 
is lost, men can easily satisfy their conceptions of per- 
fection, and rest content with their own conduct. Our 



RECAPITULATION AND COxXCLUSION. 353 

imagination offers nothing better than ourselves. Yet 
persons, who admire themselves, seem not, in an equal 
degree, to admire those who resemble them. 

Indeed, the mere triumphs of reason, or the happy im^ 
pulses of the moment, are never, perhaps, profoundly ad- 
mired. It is not good opinions nor etnotions, praise- 
worthy, perhaps, but involuntary, which inspire man with 
the deej3est respect for man. The judgements, the de- 
sires, the tastes, all may change ; it is in the character , 
only, that we confide. But in what does this character 
consist ? When is it, that we entertain for another a high 
regard ? It is wiien we believe him governed by good 
principles, incorporated into his very being, and too firmly 
established in his own mind, even to be made the subject 
of discussion. But what, iu these days, is considered too 
sacred or too delicate, to be discussed with freedom and 
familiarity ? We say^ we read^ we /lear, every thing. 
The heart has no longer its mysteries. Where are the 
trembling lips, the indignant blushes, at the profanation 
of holy things ? And yet, it is this noble sensibility, 
which renders man himself a sacred object. It is when 
combating the sacrilegious invasion of the most holy places^ 
that he appears with an imposing majesty, and that we 
fancy virtue and conscience embodied in him. The re- 
ligion, which he feels not, he can never inspire in others. 
Goethe says, " he who commences life^ ivithout knowing 
the sentiment of a profound veneration^ will finish ity 
without ever having been^ himself^ the object of it.'''' 

To those, especially, whose virtuous sentiments con- 
stitute their greatest charm, — to mothers, tender and pious 
mothers, — I would, in conclusion, address myself. To 
you, are the hearts of yom* children confided. Seek, 
then, to cultivate in them those religious affections, the 
want of which, in the present generation of men, we so 
deeply deplore. Suffer them not to be withered by the 
influence of an education, too exclusively intellectual. 
Let not your sons be made mere mechanics in reasoning, 
their minds machines, into which facts being thrown, 
conclusions are manufactured. Though you may not be 
able to impart to them the treasures of science, it is for 
30* 



354 APPENDIX. 

you to show them, that there is something still more pre- 
cious. Preserve them from that levity and arrogance 
which are contracted in youth, when knowledge is not bal- 
anced by religious sentiments. You may desire their 
earthly prosperity ; but be mainly anxious for their immor- 
tal interests. Develope in them the most beautiful and 
interesting features of our nature, those which will shine 
resplendent in the world to come. Present them as an 
oftering to God ; the spirit of piety will illuminate the 
intellect with a clearer light, and its Divine influence, 
acting by sympathy on the hearts of others, will diffuse 
blessings on the coming generations of men. 



INDEX. 



A priori, meaning of, 259. 

Absorbent vessels of the skin, 61. 

Absorption by the skin, 61. 

Abslraclion, power of, improved 
by geography, 85. 

Acadeniie Fran^aise, established, 
116. Dictionary of the, 116. 

Accidental circumstances, modi- 
fication of character by, 45. 

Accoiiip'ishments, remarks on, 98, 
257—281. 

Acetate of potash, 177. 

Acetic acid, in vinegar, 177. 

Acheron, the river, 160, 161, and 
161, 7ioie. 

Acoustics, definition of, 171. 

Active powers of the mind, 76, 
303. 

Activity, personal, requisite in do- 
mestic duties, 295. 

Adam, naming of animals by, 242, 
243. 

Address to the young reader, 13. 

Adoration, growth of, 314. Effect 
of, on science, 319, note. 

iEneas, settles in Italy, 155. Aid- 
ed by Vulcan and Cyclops, 159. 

iEsculapius, 137. God of medi- 
cine, 164. 

/Etna, Mount, Typhon under, 153. 
Cyclops' forg'^ under, 159. 

Affectation, of fashion and style, 
21. Musical, 259, 260. 

AiTections, Cogan on the, 303. 

Affinity, chemi:'al, 182. 

Afflictions, 15, 28. 

Ages, Augustan, 116, and 116, 
note. Middle, 149. Golden, 
153. 

Agincourt, Charles d 'Orleans cap- 



tured at the battle of, 115. 
Aglaia, one of the Graces, 163. 
Air, the earth viewed from the, 

126. Changes by the, 134. 
Air-pump, invented, 175. 
Albert the Great, an alchymist, 

180. 
Alchymy and alchymists, 111,179. 
Alecto, a Fury, 162. 
Alexandria, library of, destroyed, 

179. 
Algebra, 220—222. 
Alison, on criticism, 228, 229. 

On the Deity, 229. On the 

beauty and sublimity of Nature, 

230. " 
Alkahest, 181. 
Alkalies, in the globe, 198. 
Alleghany mountains, 127. 
Allegri, Antonio, 275. 
Alluvial deposits, 205. 
Almacks, 21. 
Alum, crystals of, 194. 
Amalganj, first use of the word, 

ISO. 
America, early discovery of, 136, 

note. 
American, historians, 143. Artists, 

277. 
Aniiable disposition in teachers^ 

288. 
Amphitrite, 160. 

Amusements for literary men, 264. 
Anacharsis the Younger, Travels 

of, 148. 
Analysis of one'd studies, 82. 
Analytical method of instruction, 

333—334, note. 
Anatomy, value of, to females, 

189. ■ 
Anaxagoras, a geometrician, 224. 



356 



INDEX. 



Ancient geography, point of sep- 
aration of modern and, 131. 
Should not be studied before 
modern, 132. Importance of, to 
understandhig the Old Testa- 
ment, 132 ; the New, 133. 
Physical department of, 134. 
Of the United States, 136 ; re- 
marks on it, 136. 

Ancient languages, 94, 103, 350. 
Time for commencing the study 
of, 103. Kemarks on the, 106. 
See Greek and Latin. 

Andromache, Helen and, 274. 

Andromeda, delivery of, 162. 

Angelo, Michael, paintings of, 275. 

Anger, in children, 306. Forms 
of, various, 307. 

Angle of vision, 272. 

Animals, fossil remains of, 202, 
203. Anlediluvian remains of, 
203, 204. In the tertiary for- 
mation, 205. Creation of aqua- 
tic, 206 ; of land, 207. Naming 
of, by Adam, 242, 243. Paint- 
ing of, 277, 278. On interest- 
ing children in, 316. 

Anno Domini, 131. 

Antediluvian remains, 203 — 205, 
207. 

Antediluvium, derivation of, 204. 

Antimony, Triumphal Chariot of, 
181. 

Antipodes, 130, and 130, note. 

Antiquitates AmericansE, 137, 
note. 

Antiquity, study of, 350. 

Apalachian mountains, 127. 

Apathy of the moral emotions, 
318, note. 

Apeiles, a Greek painter, 274. 

Aphrodite, meaning of, 155, note. 

Apollo, temple of, at Delphos, 
152. Defeats the sons of Nep- 
tune, 153. Various characters 
sustained by, 157. 

Appetite, government of the, 64. 

Apple, composition on, 236. 

Aquinas, Thomas, an alchyraist, 
180. 

Arabia, science takes refuge in, 
179. 



Arabians, figures from the, 215. 
Algebra from the, 221. 

Archimedes, 174. 

Ar(;hite(;ture, perpetuation of my- 
thology by, 151. 

Arges, parentage of, 152. 

Ariosto, 1 19. 

Aristotle, philosophy and science 
of, 174. Logic of, 241. Rev- 
erence for, 242. 

Arithmetic, derivation and meaning 
of, 215. Among the Fgvptians, 

215. Importance of, to females, 

216, 218. Distinction between 
algebra and, 220. 

Armoric dialect, 114. 

Arnold de Villa Nova, 180. 

Articulate sounds, the study of, 88. 

Arts, necessary and liberal, 322, 
327. Moral tendencies of the, 
325. See Fine Arts. 

Aspasia of Athens, 255. 

Assyrian empire, 132. 

Astronomical geography, 126. 

Astronomy, connection of geogra-?' 
phy with, 124. Urania, Muse 
of, 163. Derivation of the 
word, 167. Influence of, on 
the mind, 167. Dick cited on, 
167. Composition on, 239. Re- 
marks on, 317. 

Athens, temple of Jove at, 151. 

Athletic, derivation of, 110. 

Atlas, Mount, 160. 

Atoms, the theory of, 173. 

Atropos, 162. 

Attention, on fixing the, 83, 210. 

Attraction, double elective, 182. 

Augustan ages, 116, and 116, note. 

Augustus, Augustan age so called 
from, 116, note. 

Authors' ideas, on remembering, 82. 

Autobiography, derivation of, 119. 

Avarice, 327. 

B. 

Babylon and Babylonian empire, 
132. 

Bacchus, account of, 158. 

Bacon, Francis, Lord, on philoso- 
phy in workshops, 170. Con^ 
tributions to science by, 174. 



INDEX. 



357 



Bacon, Roger, an alchymist, ISO. 

Knowledge of, 180, 
Bacon on religion and science, 311. 
Bakevvell, on animals in the ter- 
tiary formation, 205. Cited, 208. 
Balloons, viewing the earth froin, 

126. 
Balls, on attending, 2G7, 268. 
Barometer, invented, 175. 
Bartholemy, Ahbe, Travels of An- 

acharsis the Younger, by, 148. 
Basaltic rocks, 205. 
Bas bleus, 254. 
Basil Valentine, 181. 
Basque language, 119. 
Bathing, 60, 61. 

Bayle invented the air-pump, 175. 
Beauty, connection of.with health, 

57. Reinarks on, 155, 156. 
Beccaria, an Italian writer, 119. 
Beccher, chemical theory of, 181. 
Bee Hive, 118, note. 
Beginning of the earth, 140. 
Belief, influence of reason on, 252. 
Bellerophon, a demigod, 162. 
Belloc, Louise S. W., 118, and 

118, 7}ote. 
Bellona, sister of Mars, 158. 
Bending the necU, 68. 
Bergmann, chemical knowledge 

of, 182. 
Berthollet, 184. 
Berzeliiis, the chemist, 184. On 

the perfection of a science, 193. 
Bible, historical events in the, 140 

—143. True, 252. 
Bible Societies, effects of, on the 

poor, 327, 7io[e. 
Bigland's View of the World, 150. 
Birth of Christ, an argument for 

Christianity, 132. 
Black, Dr., discoveries by, 183. 
Blackboards, drawing maps on, 123. 
Blair's Rhetoric, 228. 
Blood, rushing of, to the head, 71. 
Bloon.field, Robert, 232. 
Blue-stockings, 254, vote. 
Blue \itriol, crystals from, 194. 
Boarding-school, starvation, 63. 

Manners, 258. See Schools. 
Eodii's, general properties of, ICS. 



Bodily organs, see Organs. 

Body, 52, Relation of, to mind, 
52, 53. Living for the, among 
the poor, 53. Influence of 
habits on the motions of the, 55; 
on the shape of the, 66. Car- 
riage of the, 66, 70. Position 
of the, in sitting, 66, 69. 

Eoerhaave, chenjistry by, 182. 

Bonaparte, school established by, 
38. As a writer, 143. Selfish, 
148. 

Bossuet, 41, 143. 

Botany, 56, 126. Importance of, 
56, 73. Effect of, on the mind, 
85. Terms in, derived from the 
Greek, 110. Familiar Lectures 
on, 190. Useful in flower- paint- 
ing, 272. 

Brande, the chemist, 184. 

Bread, putting pearlash in, 177. 

Briareus, parentage of, 152. 

Brontes, parentage of, 152. 

Brouoham, Lord, dress of, 217, 
218. 

Brown, Dr., classification of the 
states of mind by, 75. On the 
muscular sense, 169, nuic. On 
taste, 226. 

Brown and Smith, compared, 350, 
note. 

Brown's Grammar, 99, note. 

Brutes, the young of, and infants, 
51. Men and, 54. 

Burder, H. F., on St. Paul, 24. 

Burns, Robert, 232. 



Cabinet, of shells, 187. Of min- 
erals, 194. 

CcEsar, Augustus, 116, note. 

Ca3sar, Julius, 107. Conquest of 
Gaul by, 114. A historian, 
143. A'mbitious, 148. 

Cake, putting pearlash in, 177. 

Calculation, derivation of the 
word, 215. 

Calliope, Muse of epic poetry, 163. 

Callisthenir's, 55. 

Campun, Madame, 117. On edu- 
cation by n:others, 261. On 



^58 



INDEX. 



music, 262, 266. On accom- 
pMshments, 266. 

Canaanite cities, 132. 

Cantabrians, 119. 

Carasposa, meaning of, 263. 

Caracci, of the second Lombard 
school, 276. 

Carbonate of potash, 177, 178. 

Carbonic acid gas, in limestone, 
183. 

Careless and idle, persons, 18. 
Daughters, 19. Pupils, 19. 

Carlisle, Countess of, cited, 108. 

Carriage, anecdote respecting, 219. 

Carriage of the body, 66, 70. 

Carter, Elizabeth, Translation of 
Epictetus by, 110. 

Carthaginian language, 120. 

Castile, 120. 

Casti'ian Spanish language, 120. 

Cauline plants, 202. 

Cedilla, 115, note. 

Celibacy, goddesses devoted to, 
157. 

Cerberus, 161. 

Ceres, 152, 159. 

Cervantes, Don Quixote by, 120. 

Changes in the earth, 134, 201, 
203, 206. 

Chaos, 140, 152. 

Character, teachers', 42. Modifi- 
cati(m of, by accidental circum- 
stances, 45. Foundation of mor- 
al and religious, 305, 309, 310. 
Re.narks on, 353. 

Charity, on awakening, 325. 

Charlemagne, 131. 

Charles d'Orleans, 115. 

Charles V., Robertson's, 150. 

Charles XI[., Voltaire's, 150. 

Charon, 161. 

Chateaubriand, cited, 278. 

Checked psrspiration, 60, 61. 

Chemical action, in galvanism, 172, 

Chemical, attraction, 172. Affin- 
ity, 182. 

Chemistry, importance of a knowl- 
edge of, 73, 176. Effect of, on 
the mind, 85. A branch of 
physical geography, 126. In 
domestis economy, 176. His- 



tory of, 178. Derivation of the 
word, 178. In Arabia, 179. 
Writers on, 180. Grows out 
of alchymy, 181. Pneumatic, 
183. Nomenclature of, 184. 
Remarks on experiments in , 185. 

Chest, expanding the, 70. Of 
males and females, 70. Mod- 
erate compression of the, 72. 

Childhood, joy fulness of, 31. 
Thoughtlessness of, 323. See 
Infants. 

Children, of the rich and the poor, 
28. Deception of parents respect- 
ing, 38. Teaching spelling to, 
86 ; reading, 91 ; grammar, 100. 
Exclusiveness in the education 
of rich parents', 104. Teaching 
geography to, 123. Early moral 
education of, 246. On govern- 
ing, 288, 290, 293. Temper of, 
306. Anger in, 306. feeltish- 
ness in, 307. Jealousy, 307. 
Advantages of, over men, 313. 
On teaching, respecting animals, 
316. Distinction between in- 
structing men and, 320. Kant 
on the education of, 322. Emu- 
lation among, 337, 339, 342. 
Representation of duty to, 344. 
Reposing confidence in, 345. 
See Poor. 

Child's Book on the Soul, 249. 

Chimera, destruction of, 162. 

Chinese painting, 273. 

Chivalry, 115. 

Chlorite, 198. In granite, 200. 

Chloritic granite, 200. 

Christianity, argument for, 131, 
132. 

Churches, pictures in, 275. 

Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 106. Def- 
inition of civil history by, 139. 

Circle, quadrature of the, 224. 

Civil geography, 129. 

Civil history, definition of, 139. 

Classical studies, 350, and 350, 
note. See Ancient languages. 

Cleaveland, on distinctions be- 
tween rocks, 193. Mineralogy 
of, 195, note. 



INDEX. 



359 



Clinton, De Witt, in favor of a fe- 
male college, 39. 

Clio, the Muse of history, 163. 

Clotho, one of the Fates, 162. 

Clotilde de Survillc, 115. 

Cocytus, river of Tartarus, 161. 

Cojlebs cited, as to studying Latin, 
107, 108. 

Cogan, Dr., on emotions and pas- 
sions, 303. On affections, 303. 

Collar-bone, 70. 

Colleges, female, 39. Equality 
in, 103. Honors of, 343, and 
343, note. 

Columbus, Christopher, 130, 137, 
note. 

Combe, Andrew, on remote con- 
sequences, 59. On checked 
perspiration, 60. On obstruc- 
tion of the pores of the skin, 61. 
On keeping up the action of the 
skin, 62. 

Combustion, Stahl's theory of,181. 

Comedy, Thalia Muse of, 163. 

Common-place book, historical, 
146. 

Common salt, crystals from, 194. 

Commoners, in English universi- 
ties, 104. 

Communication of knowledge, 31 1. 

Company, singing and playing in, 
259, 260. 

Comparison, power of, improved, 
85. 

Composition, Newman on, 226. 
Importance of, to females, 227. 
Enjoyment of, 231. First at- 
tempts in, 235. Choice of sub- 
jects for, 236. Borrowing in, 
237. Of stories, 240. Of po- 
etry, 240. Method in, 245. 

Compound minerals, 192, 193. 

Comus, god of wit, 164. 

Conchology, 187. 

Condillac, 117, 149. 

Confessors, anecdote respecting, 
116. 

Confidence, reposing, in children, 
345. 

Connecticut river, view of the, 
127. 



Connection between moral educa- 
tion and the emotions, 300, 302. 

Consciousness, 51. 

Copernican theory, ancient, 173. 

Coirectness,a quality of taste, 226. 

Correggio, 275. 

Corsets, 71, 72. Properly made, 
72, note. 

Cottus, origin of, 152. 

Counsels of a Father, cited, 244, 
245. 

Covetousness, 327. 

Creation, 140. Geological expo- 
sition of, 201, See Geology. 

Criticism, object of, 90. Works 
on, 228. 

Crusades, 115. 

Crystallography, the study of, 194. 

Crystals, on the study of, 193. 
Mode of obtaining, 194. Deri- 
vation of the word, 194. 

Cupid, god of love, 163. 

Curvature of the spine, 66, 69. 

Cyclops, parentage of, 152. Ju- 
piter aided by, 152. Aid ^ne- 
as, 159. See Polyphemus. 

D. 

Damer, Mrs., an artist, 280. 

Dance, Terpsichore, Muse of the, 
163. OfDeath, by Holbein, 276. 

Dancing, 56, 266. Madame Cam- 
pan on, 266. As exercise, 267. 
Scriptural authority for, 268. 
Evils of, 268. 

Dante, 119. 

Dardanus, founder of Troy, 164. 

Darning stockings, 65. 

Daughters, careless and idle, 19. 
Education of, by mothers, 33, 
34. Parents deceived respect- 
ing, 38. Counsels of a Father 
upon the Education of, cited, 
244, 245. Indulgence of, by 
mothers, 296, 297. See Mothers. 

Davidson, Lucretia Maria, 232, 
233. 

Davy, Sir Humphrey, 184. 

Days, 125. Of the Creation, 201. 

Dead languages, 112, note. See 
Ancient languages. 



360 



INDEX. 



Death, caused by tight lacing, 
71. 

Deceptions, female, 47. 

Decision in teachers, 288. 

Deities, origin of the gods and the 
celestial, i52. Devoted to cehb- 
acy, 157. Marine, 159. Infer- 
nal, 160. Fates, 162. Furies, 

162. Demigods, 162. Muses, 

163. Sirens, 163. Graces, 163. 
Rural, 163. Thirty thousand, 
164. 

Deity, 140. See God. 
Delicacy, a quality of taste, 226. 
Delos, Apollo and Diana born in, 

157. 
Delphos, temple of Apollo at, 

152. 
Delpierre du Tremblay, 214, note. 
Deluge, 142. Of the heathens, 

154. Proved by geology, 196, 

207. Traces of the, 203, 204, 

207. Tertiary formation, before 

the, 205. 
Demi-gods, 137. Names of, 162. 
Democritus, of Thrace, 173. 

Travels by, 179. 
Demonstrative reasoning, 213. 
De Remusat, Countess, on edu- 
cating the female sex, 41, 117, 

note. 
De Saussure, see Saussure. 
De Surville, Clotilde, 115. 
Deucalion, saved from the Deluge, 

154. 
Deutoxide of iron, 172, 
De Villa Nova, Arnold, 180. 
Diana, 151, 157. 
Diary, see Journals. 
Dick, Thomas, on astronomy, 167. 
Dictionary, use of the, for spelling, 

87. Of the French Academy, 

116. 
Diet, temperance as to, 63. 
Dignity, remarks on, 217, 220. 
Dinner, taking wine at, 63. 
Diophantes, on algebra, 221. 
Discipline, importance of early 

mental, 234. 
Diseases, cause of mental and 

nervous, 62. 



Disorder, external, connection of, 

with an irregular mind, 58. 
Display, fondness for, 20. 
Disposition, amiable, in teachers, 

288. 
Distinction, from public office, 27. 
Distortion of the spine, 66, 69. 

Division of mental faculties, 75. 

Domestic duties, personal activity 
in, 295. 

Domestic economy, 176, 219, 299. 

Domestic education of daughters, 
considered, 34, 344. Literary 
improvement in, 34. Private 
teachers for, 36. 

Domestic habits, 216, 218, 295, 
297. Of Mrs. Sigourney, 220. 

Domestics, 297. 

Don Quixote, by Cervantes, 120. 

Double elective attraction, 182. 

Drawing, habit of bending the neck 
while, 68. The basis of paint- 
ing, 269. Genius in, 270. Di- 
rections for, 270. Recommend- 
ed, 270. Objects for, 271. 
Lines for, 271. Point of sight 
in, 272. Angle of vision in, 272. 
Flowers, 272. The human fig- 
ure, 272. Value of geology and 
botany in, 272. Commence- 
ment of the art of, 273. Among 
the Greeks, 273, 274. Periods 
in, 273. Among the Egyptians, 
274. See Painting. 

Dress, remarks on, 64. Of Lord 
Brougham, 217, 218. Of lite- 
rary ladies, 254. 

Dryads, 163. 

Dry river ravine, 135. 

Dulong, the chemist, 184. 

Duplicity, female, 47. 

Durer, Albert, works of, 276. 

Dutch school of painters, 276. 

Duty, on teaching, to children, 344. 

Dwight's Geography, 122. 

E. 

Earth, opinions respectingthe, 124. 
Orbit of the, 124. Support of 
the, 125. View of the, from a 
balloon, 126. On the discovery 



INDEX. 



361 



of the true figure of the, 130. 
Changes in the, 134, 201, 203, 
206. Elementary substances of 
the, 198. 

Earth, or Terra, one of the hea- 
then deities. Mythological or- 
igin of, 152. Children of, 152. 
Other children of, 153. 

Earths, the principal, 198. 

Eclat, meaning of, 262. 

Eclipses, explained by Thales, 
173. 

Economy, remarks on, 219, 299. 

Edgevvorth, Maria, on a French 
opera-dancer, 42, note. On my- 
thology, 164. 

Education, general views of, 13. 
Nature and objects of, 25. Com- 
prehensiveness of, 26, 29. 
Private and public, considered, 
33. Public schools for, 42. 
Physical, 50, 53. Employed 
upon mind alone, 54, 75. In- 
tellectual, 75. Modern, con- 
sidered under two heads, 84. 
Infant-school, 92. In England, 
103. For the higher classes, in 
America, 104. For all, 105. 
Languages should form the basis 
of, 106. The Countess de 
Remusat's Essay on, 117, note. 
Historical common-place book 
for, 146. Neglect of Nature 
in, 165. Early moral, of chil- 
dren, 246. Moral and relig- 
ious, 248, 311. Metaphysics 
as a preliminary step in, 249. 
Stewart on, 256. Hannah 
More on, 259. Madame Cam- 
pan on, 261. Connection be- 
tween moral, and the emotions, 
300, 302. Foundation of re- 
ligious, 310. Progressive, of 
Madame de Saussure, 311. 
Kant on the tendency of, in chil- 
dren, 322. Of the poor, 325. 
Emulation in, 337, 339, 342. 
Motives to be strengthened in, 
338. Prizes in, 340. -See 
Knowledge and Mind. 

Eggs, anecdote respecting, 241. 

31 



Egyptian, empire, 132. Chemistry 
and science, 178. Religious be- 
lief, 179. Arithmetic, 215. 
Geometry, 222, 224. Drawing, 
274. 

Electricity, the science of, 172, 
173, note. Discovered by 
Thales, 173. 

Elementary substances of the globe, 
198. 

Elements of grammar, simple, 101. 

Elite, meaning of, 258, note. 

Eloquence, Polyhymnia, Muse of, 
163. 

Elysium, 160. 

Emerson, on female education, 
106, note. 

Emmons's Mineralogy, 195, note. 

Emotion, sympathetic, 147. Taste 
analyzed into judgement and, 
226. 

Emotions, 51, 76. Connection be- 
tween moral education and, 
300, 302. Remarks on the 
value of, 301. Lord Kames 
on, 303. 

Emulation, literary, 309. In edu- 
cation, 337, 339, 342. Substi- 
tutes for,344,and 344, note, 345. 

Endogenous plants, 203. 

England, feelings in the schools 
of, 103. 

English historians, 143. 

English school of painting, 277. 

Entomology, 187. On the study 
of, 188. 

Entree, meaning of, 258. 

Epic poetry, Calliope,Muse of, 163. 

Epictetus,translated by a lady, 110. 

Equality, in schools and colleges, 
103. Of rich and poor, 326. 

Equinoxes, derivation of the word, 
124, note. 

Erato, Muse of song, 163. 

Euclid, 81, 225. 

Euphrosyne, one .of the Graces, 
163. 

Euterpe, Muse of the flute, 163. 

Evil, origin of, 141. 

Examinations, public, 344, 7iote. 

Example, effect of, 23, 24, 306. 
XVIII. 



362 



INDEX. 



Exclusiveness, 104. 

Exercise, 55, 57. Dependence of 

health on, 57. Of the mind, 77. 
Exogenous plants, 203. 
External states of the mind, 50, 

75, 76. 
Extracts, books of, in history, 145. 



Facts, 174. Natural Philosophy 
a science of, 175. Established 
by geology, 206. On studying, 
318. Explanation of, 319, note. 

Faith, influence of reason on, 252. 

Families, 47. See Domestic. 

Fascinating, education for, 261. 

Fashion, affectation of, 21. Re- 
marks on, 46, 48, 264, 265. 

Fashionable and gay persons, 20, 
47. 

Fates and Furies, 162. 

Fauns, 158, note, 163. 

Feelings for foundation of charac- 
ter, 305. 

Feet, cold and wet, 57. 

Felspar, 198. In granite, 199. 

Female, athletic exercises, 55. 
College, petitioned for, in New 
York, 39. Institute, at Rah- 
way, 298, note. 

Female sex, rights of the, 39. 
Knowledge for the, 39 — 42. 
Christians of the, 40. Citation 
from the Countess de Remusat 
on the, 41. 

Females, trials incident to, 15, 28. 
Head for, in a common-place 
book, 146. Changes in the 
condition of, 150. Want of ob- 
servation in, 176. Value of 
chemistry to, 176 ; of anatomy, 
189 ; of mineralogy, 192 ; of 
geology, 196. Mrs. More on 
the minds of, 209. On the 
reasoning of, 209, 223. In- 
fluence of, 211, 255. Limited 
views of, 211. Value of math- 
ematics to, 212 ; of practical 
arithmetic,216j 218. Anecdotes 
respecting, 218, 219. Ad- 
vantages for, 223. Sphere of. 



224. Less practical than men, 

225. Importance to, of com- 
position, 227. Judgement on 
their publications, 227. Im- 
portance to, of logic, 243, 266 ; 
of mental philosophy, 253. 
Influential, 255. Importance 
of music to, 260. Eminence 
of, in the fine arts, 279. See 
Mothers. 

Fenelon, 116. Teleraachus by, 
116, 156, note. 

Filial love, 345. 

Fine Arts, female eminence in the, 
279. Moral tendency of the, 
328. 

Fine and genteel, ladies, 21, 22. 
Relations, 47. 

Fingal's Cave, 205. 

Finished young ladies, 258, 259. 

Fireside Friend, as a title, 13. 

First Cause, 313, 315. See God. 

First circles, moving in, 21. Edu- 
cation for the, 104. 

Flemish school of painters, 276. 

Flood, see Deluge. 

Flora, goddess of flowers, 164. 

Florence school of painters, 275. 

Florence, inscription at, 329. 

Flowers, efi'ects of cultivating,, 57. 
Flora, goddess of, 164. Draw- 
ing, 272. 

Flute, of Minerva, 157. Euterpe, 
Muse of the, 163. 

Foliated, 200, note. 

Food, temperance in regard to, 63. 

Fossil remains, 202, 203. See 
Geology. 

Fourcroy, 184. 

Fragrance of a body, 170. 

France, historical facts respecting, 
114. Restrictions on the Latin 
language in, 115. Chemistry 
in, 183. 

Francis I., 115. 

Franklin, Benjamin, 184. 

Franks, language of the, 114. 

French historians, 143. 

French ladies, attitude of the, and 
the eff"ect, 70. Influence of, 255. 

French language, acquiring the. 



INDEX. 



363 



112, 114. Pronunciation of the, 
112 — 114. Commonness of the, 

113. Value of the, 113. De- 
rivation of the, 115. 

French literature, rich and diversi- 
fied, 113. Sketch of, 114—118. 

French pronunciation, 112 — 114. 

French school of painters, 276. 

Fresco painting, 273. 

Friendship, remarks on, 301. 

Frigid zones, 125. 

Fruits, on taking as a dessert, 64. 
Pomona, goddess of, 164. 

Furies, Fates and, 162. 

G. 

Galileo, 130, 174, 175. 

Gallaudet, on reading, 94. Child's 
Book on the Soul, by, 249. 

Galvanism, science of, 172, 173, 
note. 

Ganymede, 164. 

Gardening, recommended, 57. 

Gardens, minds like, 78. Of Hes- 
perides, 160. 

Gaul, facts respecting, 114. 

Gay and fashionable, 20. 

Gay-Lussac, the chemist, 184. 

General properties of bodies, 168. 

General views of education, 13. 

Generosity, anecdote of, 307. 

Genius, remarks on, 77. In read- 
ing, 95. Educating, 232. Sen- 
sibility of, 232. In drawing, 
270. See Talents. 

Genlis, Madame de, 117. 

Genteel and fine, 21, 22, 47. 

Geographers, Plutarch on, 253. 

Geography, faculties exercised by, 
85. Modern, 122. Works on, 
122. On teaching, 123. De- 
rivation of the word, 123. Mean- 
ing of, 124. Connection of, with 
astronomy, 124. Mathematical, 
125. Astronomical, 126. Phys- 
ical, or natural, 126, 128. Civil, 
or political, 129. Historical, 129. 
Statistical, 129. Not a science 
of memory, alone, 129. Effects 
of, on the mind, 129. Division 
of, into ancient and modern, 



131. Ancient, 131 ; its im- 
portance, 132. 

Geology, 56, 126. Advantages of, 
128. Facts from, 134. Relation 
between mineralogy and, 193. 
Importance of, to females, 196. 
Simple minerals in, 198. Com- 
pound rocks in, 199. Primitive 
rocks in, 201. Transition rocks 
in, 202. Fossil remains, 202, 
203. Secondary rocks in, 203. 
Postdiluvial changes in, 205. 
Tertiary formation in, 205. Facts 
established by, 206. Organic 
remains in, 207. Composition 
on subjects of, 238. Use of, in 
landscape painting, 272. 

Geometry, Locke on, 81, 85. 
Plato on, 174, 215. Derivation 
of the word, 222. Origin of, 
222. Nature of, 222. Self-evi- 
dent truths in, 222. Value of, 
to women, 223. History of, 224. 

German school of painters, 276. 

Germany, music in, 264. 

Giant's Causeway, 205. 

Gibbon, 143, 149. 

Globe, see Earth. 

Glottis, 88. 

Gneiss, composition of, 200. 

God, 140. Demonstration of the 
existence of, 213. Alison on, 
229—231. Nature considered in 
its relations with, 311. See 
First Cause. 

Gods and goddesses, see Deities. 

Gold, transmutations into, 179. 

Golden Age, 153. 

Golden fruits, 160. 

Good society, 21. 

Goodrich, Lessons in Greek Pars- 
ing by, 109. 

Goodrich's United States, 150. 

Governesses, 36. Miss Edgeworth 
on, 42, note. 

Governing children, 288. See 
Children. 

Graces, The, 163. 

Grammar, 90, 96. Ignorance re- 
specting universal, 97. Former 
mode of teaching, 98, note, 332; 



364 



INDEX. 



modern, 99. Use of rules in, 
99. Errors in, 99. Works on, 

99, note. Not for children only, 

100. Simplicity of the elements 
of, 101. Value of, 101. Rela- 
tion of rhetoric and, 227. 

Grammarians, pedantic, 97. 

Granite, composition of, 199. Tal- 
cose, 200. Chloritic, 200. 

Granular, 199. 

Gratitude, writing upon, 236. 

Gravitation, 125. Nature of, 170. 

Great men, comparison of, 146. 

Greece, Travels of Anacharsis the 
Younger in, 148. 

Greek, histories and historians, 
143, 145, Mythology, 164. 
Drawing and sculpture, 273. 
Painters, 274. 

Greek language, Countess of Car- 
lisle on the, 108. On attaining 
the, 109. Writers in the, 109. 
Changes in the, 110. Scientific 
terms from the, 110. New 
Testament written in the, 110. 

Greenleaf's Grammar Simplified, 
99, 7ioie. 

Guizot, Madame, 118. 

Guthrie's Geography, 122. 

Guyton de Morveau, 184. 

Gyges, parentage of, 152. 

Gymnastic, derivation of, 110. 

H. 

Habits, early formation of, 52, 54, 
77. Influence of, on the senses, 
54 ; on the motions of the body, 
55. 

Hades, Pluto called, 161. 

Hale's United States, 150. 

Hallam's Europe in the Middle 
Ages, 149, 7iote. 

Hamadryads, The, 163. 

Hare, the chemist, 184. 

Headache, caused by tight-lacing, 
71. 

Health, 50. Promotion of, by ex- 
ercise, 57 ; by neatness and 
bathing, 57, 58, 60; by tem- 
perance, 57, 62. Influence of 
fitting and carriage of the body, 
On , 66, 69,70; of corsets, 70, 



72. Hygeia, goddess of, 164, 
See Physical Education. 

Hearing, the sense of, 75. With- 
out tactual feeling, 169, note. 

Hebe, 164. 

Heber, Bishop, 264. 

Hebrew, 111. Words derived 
from. 111. 

Hedge's Logic, 244. 

Helen, beauty of, 156. And An- 
dromache embroidered tapestry, 
274. 

Helicon, 160, 

Helios, Apollo called, 157. 

Hemans, Felicia, 115, note. Her 
songs, 264. 

Henry VIII. patronized Holbein, 
278. 

Hercules, 137. Reconciles Jupi- 
ter to Prometheus, 154. A demi- 
god, 162. 

Hermes, meaning of, 158. 

Herodotus, 143. 

Heroes, deified, 162. 

Hesperides, gardens of, 160. 

Heterogeneous minerals, 192. 

Higher classes, education for the, 
104. 

Hip, projection of the, 68, 69. 

Hippocrene, 160. 

Historians, Plutarch on, 253. 

Historical, geography, 129. Com- 
mon-place book, 146. Painting, 
272, 277. 

History, hints on studying, 138. 
Derivation of the word, 139. 
Natural, 139. Civil, 139. De- 
finition and application of the 
word, 139. Sacred, 140. Pro- 
fane, 143 ; writers on, 143. 
Roman, 143, 145. Advantage 
of, 144. The chain of, broken, 

144. Oriental, 145. Com- 
mencement of the middle, 145. 
Of countries now Mohammedan, 

145. JuUien's advice on study- 
ing, 145. Should be studied, 
147. Middle, 149. Works on 
modern, 150. View of, inter- 
esting to females, 150. Clio, the 
Muse of, 163. On giving a right 
moral influence to, 329. 



INDEX. 



365 



Holbein, Hans, a painter, 276. 

Patronized by Henry Vni.,278. 
Holland, John and Isaac, 180. 
Homer, 108, 109, Wayland cited 

respecting, 109. The earliest 

profane historian, 143. On 

Helen and Andromache, 274. 
Homogeneous minerals, 192. 
Hope, sent to mortals, 153. 
Horace, 107. 
Horn, Count, 279. 
Hornblende, 198. In granite, 200. 
Horseback, riding on, 57. 
Hose, remarks on, 58, 65. 
Hour, 125. 
Housewifery, ^ermarks on, 295. 

See Domestic. 
Hudson river, view of the, 128. 

Physical changes there, 135. 

Palisadoes on the,135,7?oig,205. 
Human figure, drawing the, 272, 

277. 
Hume, 143. His England, 150. 

Mrs. Darner and, 280. 
Hydraulics, definition of, 171. 
Hydrogen gas, discovered, 183. 
Hydrostatics, definition of, 171. 
Hygeia, goddess of health, 164. 
Hymen, god of marriage, 164. 
Hymns, on committing to memory, 

80. 
Hypasia, a female geometrician, 

221. Fate of, 222. 
Hypotenuse, square of the, 224. 



Ida, Mount, in Troy, New York, 
56, note, 135. 

Ideas, writing and comparing, 81. 
On remembering an author's, S2. 
Writing, on one's subjects of 
study, 82. Of reflection, 117. 

Idle and careless, 18, 19. Daugh- 
ters, 19, 296. 

Imagination, cultivated by rhetoric 
and criticism, 226. 

Imprudence as to health, 57, 58. 

Inanimate Nature, impressions 
from, 316. 

Inarticulate sounds, 89. 

India ink and pencil shading, 273, 

81* 



Indignation, 307. 

Indolence, mental, 102. 

Industry, in Paris, 21. 

Infincy, see Childhood. 

Infant-school education, 92. 

Infants, commencement of physical 
education in, 51. Young of 
brutes and, distinguished, 51. 
Formation of habits by, 52. 

Infernal regions and deities, 160. 

Inflammable principles in the 
globe, 198. 

IngersoU's Grammar, 99, note. 

Insanity, caused by tight-lacing,71. 

Inscription on the Museum of 
Florence, 329. 

Insects, the study of, 188. 

Insensible perspiration, 60. 

Instruct, meaning of, 320. 

Instructers, trouble of idle and 
careless pupils to, 19. Private, 
36. Moral character, of, 42, 
note. Of the modern languages, 
112. Benefited by teaching, 
283. Self-government in, 287. 
Decision in, 288. Amiable dis- 
position, 288. Patience, 288. 
Integrity in, 289. Piety, 289. 
Literary attainments of, 290. 
Martyrdom of, 291. Tact in, 
293. Responsibility of, 294. 
Hints to, 311. Rivalship among, 
842, note. 

Instruction, but a small part of 
education,'26. Methods of, 331, 
335 ; analytical, 333, 334, and 
334, note ; Lancasterian 336. 
Religion the basis of, 347. See 
Teaching. 

Integrity in teachers, 289. 

Intellectual, education, 75, 300. 
States of mind, 76. 

Internal states of mind, 76. 

Investigation, remarks on, 334. 

Invisible, Pluto called, 161. 

Ionian school of philosophy, 173. 

Iron, deutoxide of, 172. 

Isabella befriended Columbus, 131. 

Italian, pronunciation, 113. Lit- 
erature, 118. Writers, 119. 
Analogy of the Latin and, 120 



366 



INDEX. 



Jason, deified, 162. 

Jealousy, correction of, 307. 

Jerusalem, restoration of Jews to, 
133. 

Jews, cities of the, 132. Dispers- 
ed, 133. Restoration of the, 133. 

Johnson, Samuel, 280. 

Josephus's Jewish Antiquities, 147. 

Journals, hints on physical, 73, 74. 
Moral and intellectual, 256. 

Jove, synonymous with Jupitev, 
151, note. Stygian, 161. 

Judgement, 51. In taste, 226. 

JuUien, M., on education, 26. 
Physical journal, recommended 
by, 73. On studying history, 145. 

Juno, 152, 155. 

Jupiter, 140. Synonymous with 
Jove, 151, note. Victorious over 
Saturn and the Titans, 152. 
Aided by the Cyclops, 152. 
Takes the government of the 
heavens and the earth, 152. 
Subdues the giants, 153. Pun- 
ishes Prometheus, 153. Deluge 
by, 153. Reconciled to Prome- 
theus, 154. Analogies with the 
deeds of, in the Sacred Oracles, 
164. Further account of, 154. 

Jupiter Serapis, Pluto called, 161. 

K. 

Kalm, Professor, 30, note. 

Kalmia, a genus of evergreens, 
30, note. 

Kames, Lord, the sympathetic 
emotion of, 147. His Criticism, 
228. On emotion and passion, 
303. 

Kant, on education, 322. 

Kauffman, Angelica, facts respect- 
ing, 279. 

Kirkham's Grammar, 99, note. 

Knowledge, evil of, without wis- 
dom, 30. On giving to the fe- 
male sex, 39—42, 223. Of the 
material world, limited, 169. 
Communication of, 311. The- 
oretical, 333. Attainment of, by 
children, 334. See Education. 



L. 

Lachesis, 162. 

Lacing, effects of tight, 70. 

Lancasterian method of instruc- 
tion, 336. 

Land, formation of, 134. 

Land animals, creation of, 207. 

Landmarks, Terminus guardian 
of, 164. 

Landscape painting, geology use- 
ful in, 272. 

Landscape scene, in Troy, New 
York, 56, 7iote. 

Language, oral, 89, GO. Origin 
and use of the word, 90. Writ- 
ten, 90. Sciences relating to, 
90. Grammar to conform to, 
96. 

Languages, knowledge of, aids 
pronunciation, 94. Should form 
the basis of education, 106. 
Encouragement in .studying, 108. 
Attainments in, by Elizabeth 
Smith, 111. Modern, 112. See 
Ancient, French, Greek, He- 
brew, and Latin. 

Langue d'oc, 114. 

Langue d'oui, 115. 

La Ruche, 118, note. 

Larynx, 88. 

Late suppers, always injurious, 
73. 

Latin language, 94. Studying the 
106. Remarks on the, 106. 
Distinguished writers in the, 106. 
Modern use of the, 1^/. Knowl- 
edge of the, by females, 107. 
Countess cf Carlisle on the, 108. 
Introduced into Gaul, 114. 
Restrictions, by Francis L, on 
the use of the, 115. Not the 
common language of the people, 
118. Analogy of the Italian and 
Spanish with the, 120. 
Latium, Faturn's flight to, 153. 
Lavoisier, chemical discoveries by, 

183. 
Learning, without wisdom, 30. 

See Education. 
Le Brun, the painter, 276. 
Lecturing to one student, 102. 



INDEX. 



367 



Left hip, projection of the, 68, 69. 

Legion of Honor, school for daugh- 
ters of the, 38. 

Lessons, when learned, 81. Ana- 
lyses of, J 2. 

Lethe, the river ^ 161. 

Letters, revival of, 149. 

Liberal arts, on teaching the, 322. 

Liberty, Bossuet's definition of, 
41. 

Library of Alexandria, destroyed, 
179. 

Life, in connection with its Infinite 
v?ource, 315. 

Light bread, 177. 

Limestone, Black's discoveries re- 
specting, 183. A mineral, 198. 
In transition rocks, 202. 

Limning, 273. 

Lines for aid in drawing, 271. 

Linnaeus, 182. And Bergraann, 
183. 

Literary attainments of teachers, 
290. For primary schools, 292. 

Literary emulation, 309. See 
Emulation. 

Literary ladies. See Dress. 

Literary men, amusements for, 
264. 

Literary taste, 227. See Taste. 

Literature, French, 114. Italian, 
118. Spanish, 119. 

Livy, 107, 143. 

Loadstone, 172. 

Locke, John, on the exercise of 
the mental faculties and powers, 
77. On mathematics, 81. On 
Euclid's Geometry, 31. Mis- 
conceived by Condillac, 117. 
Metaphysics since the time of, 
251. 

Logic, object of, 90, 242. Ancient, 
241. Its use, 243. Hedge's, 
244. Value of, to women, 246. 

Lombard school, 275. The sec- 
ond, 276. 

Louis XIV., the age of, 116. 

Love, Cupid god of, 163. 

Love, of money, 327. Of God, 345. 

Lully, Raymond, 180. 

Lungs, remarks on the, 88. 



Luxury, injury of, to morals, 18. 

M. 

Machiavelli, and Machiavellian 
policy, 119. 

Magi, science confined to the, 178. 

Magnetic needle, 172, note. 

Magnetism, 172, 173, note. 

Maia, daughter of Atlas, 158. 

Malherbe, influence of, on 
French literature, 116. Anec- 
dote respecting, 116. 

Mammiferous quadrupeds, in the 
tertiary formation, 205. 

Man, by Prometheus, 153. See 
Men. 

Manners, female, 257. Boarding- 
school, 258. 

Maps, 123. Drawing on black- 
boards, 123. Modern use of, 
123. 

Marine animals, creation of, 206. 

Marine deities, 159. 

Marot, Clement, a poet, 116. 

Marriage, Hymen god of, 164. 

Mars, account of, 157. 

Marshall's W^ashington, 150. 

Material organs, see Organs. 

Materialism, 351. 

Mathematical geography, 125. 

Mathematics, Locke on, 81. Val- 
ue of, 210, 212, 214. Deriva- 
tion of the word, 213. Pure and 
mixed, 213, 225. A science of 
comparisons, 214. Delpierre 
du Tremblay on, 214. Aids 
composition, 227. 

Matter, general properties of, 168. 
Definition of, 169. Known 
through the senses, 169. Ex- 
ploded questions respecting, 
170. 

Mechanical action, in electricity, 
172. 

Mechanics, a branch of Natural 
Philosophy, 171. 

Medicine, on knowing the ingredi- 
ents in, 73. Recording the ef- 
fects of, 74. ^sculapius god 
of, 164. 

Medusa, the head of, 157, 162. 



868' 



INDEX. 



Megsera, a Fury, 162. 

Melpomene, Muse of tragedy, 163. 

Memory, 78, 300. Cultivation of 
the, at the expense of the other 
faculties, 79. Improved by 
geography, 85, 129. 

Men, children's advantages over, 
313. Distinction between in- 
structing children and, 320. 
Nature considered in its relations 
vjfith, 322, Progression of, 323. 
See Brutes. 

Menelaus, Helen wife of, 156. 

Mental discipline, importance of 
early, 234. 

Mental, habits, 52. Diseases, 62. 
Faculties, division of, 75. In- 
dolence, 102. 

Mental philosophy, 250. Since the 
time of Locke, 251. Value of 
practical, to ladies, 253, 255. 
See Metaphysics. 

Mercury, account of, 158. 

Metals, the principal, in the globe, 
198. 

Metaphysics, derivation of the 
word, 110. As a preliminary 
step in education, 249. The 
province of, 251. See Mental. 

Method, in composition, 245. 

Methods, of instruction, 331. Tal- 
leyrand on, 331. Dangers from 
the explanatory and interroga- 
tive, 335. 

Mica, 198. In granite, 199. 

Mica slate, composition of, 200. 

Microscopes, facts revealed by, 
253. 

Middle age, change from youth to, 
82. 

Middle Ages, Historyof the, given 
by Condillac, 149; by Hallam, 
149, note. 

Middle history, 145, 149. 

Midianite cities, 132. 

Millenium, 133. 

Millet's France, 150. 

Milton, John, on the rivers of 
Tartarus, 161. On riches, 161. 

Mind, the object to be acted upon, 
in physical education, 50, 54. 



External states of the, 50, 75, 
76. Relation of physical educ- 
ation to the, 50, 75. Classifica- 
tion of the slates of the, 50, 75. 
The object on which education 
operates, 54, 75. Intellectual 
states of the, 76. Emotions, 76. 
Internal states of, 76. Locke on 
the exercise of the faculties and 
powers of the, 77. Compared 
to a garden, 78. Rules for im- 
proving and disciplining the, 81. 
Should be studied by the indi- 
vidual himself, 81. Suspension 
ofeffort of the, 82. Slothfulness 
of the , 1 02. Effect of geography 
on the, 129; of astronomy, 167. 
Remedy for narrowness of, 210. 
Education of the, for composition, 
226. Operations of the, the 
study of Locke and others, 251. 
See Education. 

Mineralogy, 191. Connection of 
geology with, 193. Study of 
crystals in, 193. 

Minerals, cabinets of, 192, 194. 
Definition of, 192. Homogene- 
ous, or simple, 192. Hetero- 
geneous, or compound, 192, 
193. Classification of, 195. 
Simple, in geology, 198. Com- 
bination of, in rocks, 199. 

Minerva, 156. Representation of, 
157. Devoted to celibacy, 157. 

Mixed mathematics, 213, 225. 

Modern, education considered un- 
der two heads, 84. Languages, 
112. Geography, 131. Histo- 
rians and history, 143, 150. 

Mohammedan countries, history 
of, 145. 

Moliere, 116. 

Momus, god of sarcasm, 164. 

Monadelphia, derivation of, 110. 

Money, love of, 327. 

Montaigne, 116. 

Montgolfier, Adelaide, 118. 

Montgomery, on Italian poets, 119. 
Cited, 208. 

Moors conquer Spain, 120. 

Moral, and religious, persons, 21. 



INDEX. 



369 



Example, 23, 24. Character of 
teachers, 42. Reasoning, 213. 
Sense, 247. Education, 311. 

IMoral education, the early, of 
children, 246, 305. Connection 
between emotions and, 300, 302. 
On conducting, 302. 

Moral emotions, case of apathy of 
the, 318, note. 

Moral Philosophy, 246. Paley's, 
246. Parkhurst's and Way- 
land's works on, 248. Rela- 
tive value of, in education, 248. 

]\Ioral sciences, preparation for the, 
322. 

Morality, effect of luxury on, 18; 
of wealth, 18. High standard of, 
requisite in teachers, 42 ; in 
public institutions, 46. 

More, Hannah, on studying Latin, 
107. On sober studies, 209. 
On female education, 259. 

Morse's Geography, 122. 

Morveau, Guyton de, 184. 

Mosaic painting, 273. 

Moser, Miss, a flower-painter, 280. 

Mothers, made unhappy by idle and 
careles-3 daughters, 19. Duty 
of, to daughters, 25. Education 
of daughters by, 33. Claims 
upon, 34. Influence of, 258. 
Indulgence of daughters by, 296. 
Self-government in, 306. See 
Children, Daughters, and Fe- 
males, 

Motives to be strengthened in edu- 
cation, 338. 

Murray, the chemist, 184. 

Muscular sense, 169, note. 

Muses, Pegasus sent to the, 160. 
The nine, 163. 

Museum of Florence, inscription 
of the, 329. 

Music, Orpheus god of, 164. 
As an accomplishment, 257, 
259. Playing or singing, when 
requested, 259, 260. Its im- 
portance considered, 260, 261. 
Hints on, 262. Value of, 263, 
266. Vocal, 263. Considera- 
tions respecting, 265. 



Mythology, derivation of the word, 
151. Subjects of, 151. Per- 
petuated by the arts, 151. Im- 
portance of an acquaintance 
with, 164. See Deities. 

N. 

Naiads, The, 163. 

Names, giving to animals, 242, 
243. 

Napoleon, see Bonaparte. 

Natural endowments, 77. See 
Genius. 

Natural geography, 126, 128. 

Natural History, 139, 185. Moral 
tendency of, 315. 

Natural Philosophy, definition of, 
16S. Subjects embraced by, 
171. Sketch of the history of, 
173. A science of facts, 175. 
Ancient chemistry, in the sense 
of, 178. Illustrated by mathe- 
matics, 225. 

Natural science, value of, 85. In- 
creased attention to, 166. Sub- 
divisions of, 167 ; astronomy, 
167 ; natural philosophy, 168 ; 
chemistry, 176; natural history, 
185. 

Natural sciences, within reach of 
all, 98. Moral tendency of the, 
313, 318. The great utility of, 
317. 

Nature and objects of education, 
25. See Education. 

Nature, neglect of, in education, 
165. The science of, termed 
physics, 167. Ancient ignorance 
of, 178, 179. Studymg the 
works of, 185. Alison on, 230. 
Considered in itself, and in its 
relations with God, 311. Re- 
ligious view of, the source of 
happiness, 314. Contemplation 
of the order of, 314, 316. Im- 
pressions from inanimate, 316. 
Considered in its relations with 
man, 322. 

Neatness, beauty and health de- 
pend upon, 57, 64. Remarks 
on, 58, 64. Requires attention 



370 



INDEX. 



to the teeth, 59 ; bathing, 60, 
Of dress, 64. In ladies, going 
from home, 65. 

Necessary arts, on teaching the, 
322, 327. 

Neck, spine affected by bending 
the, 68. 

Necker de Saussure, 118. 

Neptune, parentage of, 152. The 
seas subject to, 152, 159. Sons 
of, attempt to scale the heavens, 
153. 

Nervous diseases, cause of, 62. 

Newman's Rhetoric, on education 
for composition, 226. On lite- 
rary taste, 227. 

Newton, Isaac, gravitation dis- 
covered by, 170. Remarks on 
his discoveries, 175. 

New Testament, written in Greek, 
110. 

New Western Empire, 131. 

Niagara river, 127. 

Night, parent of earth, 152. 

Nile, geometry from the inunda- 
tion of the, 222. 

Nineveh, fallen, 132. 

Niobe, 189. 

Nobility, in English Universities, 
104. 

Nominalists, the ancient, 242. 

Notes, on writing, 227. 

Nymphs, The, 163. 

O. 

Objects of education, 25. See 
education. 

Observation, remarks on, 176. 
Requisite for composition, 237. 

Observations, on making, 253. 

Oc, langue d', 114. Called Pro- 
vengal, 115. 

Oceanus, child of Earth, 152. 

Office, distinction on account of 
friends in, 27. 

Oil painting, 273. 

Old age, 32, 76, note. 

Old Testament, importance of geog- 
raphy, to understand the, 132. 

Olympian Jove, 151. 

Olympus, Mount, 135, 151, note. 
Placing Ossa upon, 153. 



Opinions, remarks on the word, 
235. 

Optics, definition of, 172. 

Oral language, 89, 90. 

Orbit of the earth, 124. 

Order, in composition, 245. Of 
Nature, 314, 316. 

Orestes, persecution of, 162. 

Organic remains, 207. See Ge- 
ology. 

Organs, bodily, dependence of the 
senses on the, 52. 

Origin, of evil, 141. Of the gods 
and celestial deities, 152. 

Orleans, Charles d', 115. 

Orpheus, god of music, 164. 

Orthoepy, 86. 

Orthography, 86. Words of irreg- 
ular, 87. Rules in, 87. 

Ossa, placing, upon Olympus, 153. 
Placing Pelion upon, 153. 

Oui, langue d', 115. 

Ovid, 107. 

Oxygen, derivation of the word, 
110. Discovered, 183. Lavo- 
sier on, 183, 184. 



Painters, Grecian, 274. Modern, 
275. The Florence school of, 

275 ; the Roman, 275 ; Vene- 
tian, 275 ; Lombard, 275 ; sec- 
ond Lombard, 276 ; French, 

276 ; German, 276 ; Flemish, 
276 ; Dutch, 276 ; English, 
277. 

Painting, drawing, the basis of, 
269. Flowers, 272. The hu- 
man figure, or historical, 272, 

277. Landscape, 272, 278. 
Oil, 273. Mosaic, 273. In 
water colors, 273. Velvet, 273. 
Chinese, 273. Of animals, 277, 

278. By females, 279. See 
Drawing. 

Pales, goddess of shepherds, 164. 

Paley, William, on the lungs, 88. 
On virtue ,213. Moral Philoso- 
phy of, 246. On the sabbath, 
247. 

Palisadoes on the Hudson, 136, 
note, 205. 



INDEX. 



371 



Pan, a rural deity, 164. 

Panacea, 181. 

Pandora, the box of, 153. 

Paracelsus, 181. 

Paralysis, cases of, 76, note. 

Parcre, 162. 

Parents, see Children and Mothers. 

Paris, 155. Promise to, by Ve- 
nus, 156. 

Paris, remarks on society in, 21. 

Parkhurst's Moral Philosophy ,248. 

Parrhasius, a Greek painter, 274. 

Parsing, mechanical, 98, 100,332, 
note. See Grammar. 

Passions, government of the, by 
teachers, 287. 

Patience, requisite in teachers, 288. 

Pearlash, in bread, 177. 

Pedantic grammarians, 97. 

Pegasus, the winged horse, 160. 

Pelion, placing upon Ossa, 153. 

Pelletier, the chemist, 184. 

Pellico, Silvio, 119. 

Penaenus, a Greek painter, 274. 

Pencil and India ink shading, 273. 

Perception, 50, 51. 

Perseus, 137. A demigod, 162. 

Perspiration of the skin, 60. 

Pestalozzi, 333. 

Petrarch, 119. 

Petrifaction, 203. 

Phelps, A. H. Lincoln, account of 
Lucretia Maria Davidson by, 
233. Instructer in the Troy Fe- 
male Seminary, 233, 250, note. 
At the Female Institute, in Rail- 
way, 293, note. 

Philistine cities, 132. 

Philology, meaning of, 100. 

Philosopher's stone, 180. 

Philosophy, Bacon on, in work- 
shops, 170. See Natural Phi- 
losophy. 

Phlegethon, the river, 161. 

Phlogiston, 182. 

Phoebus, Apollo called, 157. 

Phoenician language, 120. 

Phoenicians, arts known by the, 
178. 

Physical education, 50, 53. Mind, 
the object to be acted upon in, 



50, 54, 75. Commencement of, 

51. Among the children of the 
lower classes, 53, Depends on 
the sensations, 300. See Health. 

Physical geography, 126, 128, 134. 
Physical, habits, 52. Journals, 

73, 74. Science, 174. 
Physics, derivation of the word, 

110. Meaning of, 167. 
Piano, position at the, 69. 
Pictures in churches, 275. 
Piety in teachers, 289. See 3Io- 

rality and Religion. 
Pillows, evil of high, 70. 
Pitkin's United States, 150. 
Plants, fossil remains of, 202, 

203. Creation of, 206. 
Plato, on geometry, 174, 215. A 

geometrician, 224. 
Playing, when asked, 259, 260. 
Pleasing, on the desire of, 254, 

301. 
Pliny, the Elder, on the Egyptians, 

179. 
Plutarch, on chemistry, 178. On 

geographers and historians, 253. 
Pluto, 152. Names of, 161. 
Plutus, 161. 

Pneumatic chemistry, 183. 
Pneumatics, definition of, 171. 
Poetry, Calliope Muse of epic, 

163. Composition of, 240. 

When good, 299. 
Point of sight, 272. 
Policy, Machiavellian, 119. 
Political geography, 129. 
Politics, common-place book for, 

146. 
Polybius, 143. 
Polyhymnia, Muse of eloquence, 

163. 
Polyphemus, notice of, 160. 
Pomona, the goddess of fruits, 164. 
Pompadour, Madame, 255. 
Poor, children of the, rising to 

eminence, 28 ; their physical 

education, 53 ;* educating the, 

325. Effect of Bible Societies 

on the, 327, note. See Children. 
Pores of the skin, obstruction of 

the, 61. 



372 



INDEX. 



Portions of Scripture, on commit- 
ting to memory, 80, 

Post-dilavial changes, 205. 

Potash, pearlash a carbonate of, 
177. Acetate of, 177. 

Poussin, the painter, 276. 

Powers, reasoning, or intellectual, 
76. Active, 76. 

Practical, remarks on the, 216, 
218, 225, 228. 

Priestley, Joseph, chemical dis- 
coveries by, 183. 

Primary schools, qualifications for 
teaching, 292. 

Primitive rocks, 201. 

Principles, inflammable, in the for- 
mation of the globe, 198. Re- 
marks on, 244, 245. 

Private and public education, con- 
sidered, 33. 

Private teachers, 36. 

Prizes, competition for, 340. See 
Emulation. 

Profane history, 143. Writers in, 
143. 

Profession of teaching, 282. 

Professor lecturing to one student, 
102. 

Progression, human, 323. 

Progressive Education, ideas taken 
from the second volume of, 311, 
note. 

Projection of the hip, 68, 69. 

Prometheus, account of, 153, Ju- 
piter reconciled to, 154. 

Pronunciation, aided by knowl- 
edge of languages, 94. Of the 
modern languages, 112. 

Properties of bodies, 168, 

Proserpine, 161. 

Proteus, keeper of Neptune's seals, 
160. 

Provencal language, 115. 

Provence, government of, 115. 

Public and private education, 33. 

Public examinations, 344, note. 

Public office, see Office. 

Public schools for young ladies, 
42. Defects in, 43. Dangers 
in, 44. 

Pupils, idle and careless, 19. On 



governing, 288, 290, 293, See 

Children. 
Pure mathematics, 213. 
Pyrrha, saved from the Deluge, 

154. 
Pythagoras, the teaching of, 173. 

A geometrician, 224. 



Quartz, 198. 



Gl. 

In granite, 199. 

R. 



Racine, 116. 

Rahway Female Institute, 298, 
note. 

Raphael, paintings of, 275, 

Raynal's Political and Philosophi- 
cal History of the Indies, 150, 

Readers, few good, 92. 

Reading, on remembering, 82, 
Remarks on, 91, Connection 
of, with spelling, 91. Teaching 
to children, 91, Requisites for 
good, 92, On rules in, 93. 
Gallaudet on, 94, Genius in, 95. 
Jullien's method recommended, 
145, 147, 

Realists, the ancient, 242. 

Reason, influence of, on belief, 
252, Triumph of human, 316. 
Attainments of, 319, The wan- 
derings of,320. Unconfined,320. 

Reasoning, female, 209,223. Dif- 
ferent kinds of, 213. Ancient 
mode of, 241. Method in, 245. 
A priori, 259. 

Reasoning powers, 76, 300. Aid- 
ed by studying mathematics, 81. 
Distinguish men and brutes, 223. 
See Mind. 

Refinement, a quality of taste, 226. 

Reflection, ideas of, 117. 

Regularity of Nature, 314, 316. 

Relations, vulgar and genteel, 47. 

Relative suggestion, 78. 

Religion, 134. Head for, in a 
common-place book, 146. Re- 
marks on ancient, 179. Bacon 
on science and, 311. The basis 
of instruction, 347. See Edu- 
cation, God, and Mythology. 



INDEX. 



37J 



Religious, and moral, persons, 21. 
Example, 23, 24. Education, 
311. See Education, God, and 
Moral. 

Rembrant Vanryn, the painter, 
276. 

Remembering an author's ideas, 
82. 

Remusat La Comtesse de, work 
by, on female education, 117, 
note. 

Revelation, evidences of, 131, 
252. See Scriptures. 

Revival of letters, 149. 

Revolution, character of people 
during the, 18. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, founder of 
the English school, 277. 

Rhea, wife of Saturn, 152. 

Rhetoric, object of, 90. Cultiva- 
tion of taste and imagination by, 
226. Newman's, 226. Rela- 
tion of grammar and, 227. 
Blair's, 228. On making it 
practical, 228. 

Ribs, deformed by curvature of the 
spine, 68. Motion of the, 70. 
Ligatures and tight-lacing on the, 
71. 

Rich parents, see Children. 

Richelieu, Cardinal, L'Academie 
Frangaise established by, 116. 

Riches, Plutus the god of, 161. 
See Wealth. 

Richter, motto from, 347. 

Riding on horseback, 57. 

Right shoulder, elevation of the, 
68. 

Rising bread, 177. 

Robertson, 143. His Charles V., 
150. 

Rocks, Cleaveland on distinctions 
between, 193. Simple minerals 
in the formation of, 198. Com- 
pound, 199. Primitive, 201. 
Transition, 202. Secondary, 
203. Superincumbent, 205. 
Tertiary, 205. Organic remains 
in, 207. See Geology. 

RoUin's Ancient History, 147. 

Roman, rustic language, 114. 
32 



' Historians, 143, 148. History, 
145. School of painters, 275. 

Romance language, 114. 

Romans, effect of luxury on the, 
18. Gaul conquered by, 114. 
Their ideas of the barbarians, 
130. Indifferent to the art of 
design, 274. 

Rousseau, 116. 

Rubens, Paul, at the head of the 
Flemish school, 276. 

Ruche, La, 118, note. 

Rules for improving and disciplin- 
ing one's mental powers, 81. 

Rural deities, 163. See Deities. 

Rush of blood to the head, 71. 

S. 

Sabbath, Paley's views of the, 247. 

Sacred history, 140. 

St. Denis, establishment of the 
school of, 38. 

St. Paul, Burder on the character 
of, 24. 

St. Peter's church, at Rome, Mo- 
saic paintings in, 273. 

Sallust, 106, 143. 

Salt, crystals from common, 194. 

Sandstone, in transition rocks, 202. 

Sanzio, Raphael, 275. 

Sarcasm, Momus god of, 164. 

Saturn, 140, 152. Jupiter wars 
with, 152. His flight to Latium, 
153. 

Saturnia, a city, 153. 

Satyrs, 158, note, 163. 

Saussure, Madame de, 118. Ideas 
taken from the second volume of 
her Progressive Education, 311, 
note. On the instructions of her 
father, 312, note. On resting 
satisfied with second causes, 
318, note. On the effect of 
Bible Societies upon the poor, 
327, note. On incompetent 
teachers, 333, note. On the an- 
alytical mode "of instruction, 
334, note. On college honors, 
343. 

Saviour, time of the birth of the, 
131. 

XVIII. 



374 



INDEX. 



Saxon language, 106. 

Scheele, a chemist, 183. 

Schools for young ladies, 42. De- 
fects in, 43, Dangers in, 44. 
Equality in, 103. Public ex- 
aminations in, 344, note. See 
Painters. 

Science, value of natural, 85. 
Words in, derived from the 
Greek, 110. Egyptian, confined 
to the Magi, 178. Takes refuge 
in Arabia, 179. Berzelius on 
the perfection of each, 193. Ba- 
con on religion and, 311. See 
Natural Science. 

Sciences, relating to language, 90. 
Access to the natural, by all, 98. 
Moral tendency of the natural, 
313,318. /See Natural Sciences. 

Scriptures, sustained by geology, 
196, 207. Evidence of the, 
252. See Revelation. 

Sculpture, rise of, among the 
Greeks, 273. 

Second causes, 315. On resting 
satisfied with, 318, note. 

Secondary rocks, 203. 

Sedgwick, Miss, on the autobi- 
ography of Silvio Pellico, 119. 

Self-education, 256. 

Self-government, in teachers, 287. 
In mothers, 306. 

Self-indulgence of school-girls, 64. 

Selfishness, correction of, 307. 

Self-knowledge, importance of, 17, 

Self-love, in education, 339. Evils 
of, 340, 341, 344, 348. 

Seminary, female, petitioned for, 
39 ; at Pv,ahway, 298, note. 

Sensations, meaning of, 50, 300, 
In infants, 51. Importance of 
the, 54. Condillac's miscon- 
ceptions of Locke respecting, 
117. 

Sense, the muscular, 169, note. 

Senses, dependence of, on ma- 
terial organs, 52. Influence of 
habit on the, 54, Entire loss of 
the, 76, Knowledge of matter 
wholly dependent on the, 168. 

Sensibility of genius, 232, 233. 



Sentiments, 235, 345, 348. 

Serapis, Jupiter, 161. 

Sevigne, Madame de, 117. 

Sexes, see Female. 

Shading, pencil and India ink, 273. 

Shells, on collecting, 187. 

Shepherds, Pales goddess of, 164. 

Shoulders, rising of the, 68. Hold- 
ing back the, 70. 

Showing ofl^, fondness for, 20. 

Sidon, fallen, 132. 

Sienite, 200. 

Sight, the sense of, 75. Without 
the muscular sense, 169, note. 
Point of, in drawing, 272. 

Sigourney, L. H., domestic habits 
of, 220. On the benefit of teach- 
ing, 283. 

Silenus, follower of Bacclius, 158. 

Silliman, Benjamin, a chemist, 
184. On geology and religion, 
196. 

Simple minerals, 192, 198. 

Simple suggestion, 78, 

Singing, when asked, 259, 260, 

Sirens, The, 163. 

Sirocco wind, 30, note. 

Sismondi, Histories by, 119. 

Sitting, habits as to, and the ef- 
fects, 66. At the piano, 69. 

Skin, a secreting and excreting or- 
gan, 60. Perspiration of the, 

60, Absorption by the, 61. 
Obstruction of the pores of the, 

61. Diseases and evils from 
neglecting the, 61, 62. 

Slate, 198. In transition rocks, 
202. 

Sleeping, on the posture in, 70. 

Smell, the sense of, 75. Without 
tactual feeling, 169, 7iote. 

Smith, Elizabeth, attainments of, 
111. Her Hebrew translation, 
111. 

Smith and Brown, compared, 350, 
note. 

Society, moving in good, 21. On 
withdrawing from, 23. Useful- 
ness to, 24. Mingling with, 
34, 37. 

Sol, Apollo called, 157, 



INDEX. 



375 



Solar system, 124. 

Sonatas, meaning of, 263. 

Song, Erato Muse of, 163. 

Songs, character of, 264. Mrs. 
Hemans's, 264. 

Soul, Child's Book on the, 249. 

Sounds, articulate, 88. Inarticu- 
late, 89. 

Spanish language, the primitive, 
119. Subsequent, 120. Anal- 
ogy of the Latin and, 120. 

Spanish literature, 119. 

Spanish pronunciation, 112. 

Speech, consists of articulate 
sounds, 89. Distinguishes men 
from brutes, 90. 

Spelling, defect in teaching, 86. 
Rules respecting. 87. Cojmec- 
tion of reading with, 91. 

Spigelius, burnt at the stake, 130. 

Spijie, curvature of the, 66, 67, 69. 
Described, 67. 

Spirit of God, 141. 

Square of the hypotenuse, 224. 

Stael, Madame "de, 117. 

Stahl, chemical knowlege of, 181. 

Statistical geography, 129. 

Steropes, parentage of, 152. 

Stewart, Dugald, on education, 
256. 

Stiped plants, 202. 

Stockings, remarks on, 58. Untidy, 
65. Darning, 65. 

Stories, for composition, 240. 

Story , Joseph, on translations, 107. 

Study, of one's own mind, 81. 
Of lessons, 81. Writing on the 
various subjects of, 82. Analy- 
sis of the lessons, 82. Seasons 
for, 82. Fixing the attention on, 
83. On understanding the na- 
ture, object, and ultimate end 
of, 84. See Education. 

Style, alfectation of, 21. 

Styx, the river, 161. 

Suggestion, simple and relative, 
78. 

Summer, cause of, 124. 

Sun, apparent movement of the, 
124. 

Superincumbent rocks, 205. 

Suppers, late, 73. 



Surville, Clotilde de, 115. 
Sweden, bishop in, burnt, 130. 
Switzerland, 128. Music in, 264. 
Sympathetic emotion, 147. 
Syrian empire, 132. 

T. 

Tacitus, 106, 143. 

Tact, in teachers, 293. See Ge- 
nius. 

Talc, 198. In granite, 200. 

Talcosc granite, 200. 

Talent, what is, 340. On devel- 
oping, 341. The germ of, 342. 

Talents, of poor children, 28. Evil 
of, without wisdom, 30. Too 
blindly worshipped, 30. See 
Genius. 

Talleyrand, motto from, 331. 

Tartarean Acheron, 16!, note. 

Tartarus, 152. Prison of the Ti- 
tans, 152. Typhon child of 
Earth and, 153. In Pluto's do- 
minions, 160. 

Tasso, 119. 

Taste, 51, 75. Habits in, 55, 
Without tactual feeling, 169, 
note. A simple or complex 
power, 226. Newman on lite- 
rary, 227. 

Taziano Vecelli, 275, 

Teachers, see Instructers. 

Teaching, as a profession, 282. 
Teachers benefited by, 283. 
Considered in relation to the 
general design of education, 312. 
See Instruction. 

Teeth, attention to the, 59. 

Telescopes, facts revealed by, 253. 

Temper of children, 306. See 
Self-government. 

Temperance, necessity of, 62. In 
regard to diet, 63. 

Temperate zones, 125. 

Temples, 151. 

Terminus, the god, 164. 

Terpsichore, Muse of the dance, 
163. 

Tertiary formation, 205. 

Thales, 173, 224. 

Thalia, Muse of comedy, 163. 
One of the Graces, 163. 



376 



INDEX. 



Theatre, derivation of, 110. 
Thebes, fallen, 132. 
Thenard, the chemist, 184. 
.Theological controversy, effect of, 

on science, 319, note. 
Theology, derivation of the word, 

110. 
Theoretical knowledge, 333. 
Theseus, a demigod, 162. 
Thomson, 183, and 183, note, 

184. 
Threads, used in drawing, 271. 
Thucydides, 143. 
Tight-lacing, effects of, 70. 
Time, themost favorable, forstudy, 

82, Consideration of, in educa- 
tion, 332. 
Tisiphone, a Fury, 162. 
Titanides, children of Earth, 152. 
Titans, children of Earth, 152. 

Conquered, 152. Imprisoned in 

Tartarus, 152. 
Titian, paintings of, 275. 
Torricelli, barometer invented by, 

175. 
Torrid zone, 125. 
Touch, early sensations from, in 

infants, 51. The sense of, 75. 

Ideas of Brown respecting, 169, 

note. 
Tout ensemble, meaning of, 278. 
Tragedy, Melpomene Bluse of, 

163. 
Trajan, benevolent, 148. 
Transition rocks, 202. 
Translations, benefits of making, 

106, 235. Story on reading, 

107. See Carter and Smith. 
Trap rocks, 205. 

Travelling, incidents in, 350, note. 

Travels of Anacharsis the Youn- 
ger, 148. 

Tremblay, Delpierre du, on math- 
ematics, 214. 

Trials incident to woman, 15, 28. 

Triton, 160. 

Troubadours, influence of, on the 
French people, 115. 

Troy, the war against, 155. Dar- 
danus founder of, 164. 



Troy, New York, description of a 
morning scene from Mount Ida 
in, 56, note. Physical changes 
in the region of, 134, 135. 

Troy Female Seminary, A. H. L. 
Phelps, teacher in the, 250, note. 

Truth, on presenting the marvellous 
side of, to the young, 312. 

Typhon, account of, 153. 

Tyre, fallen, 132. 



Ultimate atoms, 173. 

Ulysses, Minerva friend of, 156. 
Neptune's hostility to, 160. 

Understanding, powers of the, 76. 
See Mind. 

United States, aerial view of the, 
127. Ancient geography of the, 
136. Histories of the, 150. 

Unity of design, 321 

Universal grammar, ignorance re- 
specting, 97. 

Universe, Chateaubriand on the, 
278. 

Universities, privileges of rank in 
English, 104. See Colleges. 

Unknown, Pluto called, 161. 

Upsal, bishop of, burnt, 130. 

Urania, Muse of astronomy, 163. 

Uranus, 152. 

Utility, on teaching, 323. 



Vaccination, 61. 

Valentine, Basil, 181. 

Vandyke, paintings of, 277. 

Van Helmont's alkahest, 181. 

Vanity, 269. 

Vanryn, Rembrant, the painter, 
276. 

Vauquelin, the chemist, 184. 

Vecelli, Taziano, 275. 

Velvet painting, 273. 

Venetian school of painters, 275. 

Venus, beauty of, 155. Origin of, 
155. Promise to Paris by, 156. 
Representation of, 156. Tem- 
ples to, 156. Vulcan, the hus- 
band of, 159. 



INDEX. 



377 



Venus deMedicis, 156. 

Vertot's Roman Revolution, 149. 

Vesta, parentage of, 152. De- 
voted to celibacy, 157. Prov- 
ince of, 159. 

Vestibule, 159. 

Villa Nova, Arnold de, 180. 

Vinci, Leonardo da, 275. 

Vinegar, in pearlash, 177. Acetic 
acid in, 177. 

Virgil, 107, 108. Deities quoted 
from, 164. 

Virtue, Paley on, 213. See Mor- 
ality. 

Vision, writhout tactual feeling, 
169, note. Angle of, 272. 

Vitriol, crystals from blue, 194. 

Vocal music, 263. 

Voltaire, 116, 143. His Charles 
XII., 150. 

Vowels, articulation of, 88, 89. 

Vulcan, account of, 159. 

Vulgar relations, 47. 

Vulture, feeding on Prometheus, 
153,154. 

W. 

Walking, benefits of, 56. Hints 
on, 70. 

Wanderings of reason, 320. 

War, Mars the god of, 157. 

Warren, John C, on the spine, 
67. On attitude in walking, 70. 
On tight-lacing, 70. On dancing, 
267. 

Washington, George, 137. Mag- 
nanimity of, 148. Marshall's 
Life of, 150. 

Water-colors, painting in, 273. 

Watts, Isaac, on mathematics, 
210. On narrowness of mind, 
210. 

Wayland, Francis, on the in- 
fluence of Homer, 109. Mor- 
al Science of, 248. 

Wealth, on the use of, 18, 29. 
Fleetmg, 27. On the want of, 

32* 



217, 218. Passion for, 327. 
See Riches. 

West, Benjamin, 277. 

Western Empire, New, 131. Ex- 
tinction of the, 149. 

White, Henry Kirke, 232. 

Willard, Emma, on female educa- 
tion, in reference to national 
character and glory, 38. De- 
scription of a morning scene 
from Mount Ida, in New York, 
by, 56, note. Her United 
States, 150. History in Per- 
spective, 150. 

Windpipe, 88. 

Wine, on taking, 63. 

Winter, cause of, 124. 

Wisdom, seeking for, 30. 

Wit, Comus god of, 164. 

Women, see Females. 

Woodbridge, W. C, on music 
abroad, 264. 

Words, use made of, by children, 
334. 

Work, on seeming above, 21. 

Workshops, philosophy in, 170. 

World, see Earth and Society. 

Writing, bending the neck in, 68. 
And comparing ideas, 81. On 
the various subjects ofstudy, 82. 
Analyses of one's studies, 82. 
See Composition. 

Written language, 90. 



Xenophon, 143. 

Y. 

Year, 124. 

Yes, dialects named from the word, 
114. 



Zeuxis, a Greek painter, 274. 
Zones, division of the earth into, 

125. 
Zoology, 186. Utility of, 189. 



END. 



THE SCHOOL ADVERTISER NO. IL 

AUGUST, 1839. 



THE SCHOOL LIBRARY. 



MARSH, CAPEN, LYON, AND WEBB, 

109, Washington Street, Boston, 

Are now publishing, under the SANcxiOiV of the Mas- 
sachusetts Board of Education, a collection of ori- 
ginal AND selected WORKS, ENTITLED, ' ThE ScHOOL 

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The Library will embrace two series of fifty volumes 
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Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, Mrs. E. F. Ellet, Mrs. Emma C. 
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The following works, have been printed, and constitute 
the first ten volumes of the 12mo. series, viz. 

LIFE OF COLUMBUS, by Wash^gton Irving, a 
new edition, (revised by the author,) including a Visit to 
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PALEY'S NATURAL THEOLOGY, in two volumes, 
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adapted for The School Library, by Elisha Bartlett, 
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TED IN AMERICAN HISTORY, in three vols., with 
portraits of Robert Fulton, Sebastian Cabot, and Sir Henry 
Vane, and autographs of most of the individuals. 

Vol. I. WILL CONTAIN 

Life of Major-general John Stark, by His Excellency Edward Everett. 
" David Brainerd, by Rev. William B. O. Peabody. 
" Robert Fulton, by James Renwick, LL. T)., Professor of Natural PhU 

losophy and Chemistry, in Columbia College, Neiu York City. 
" Captain John Smith, by George S. Hillard, Esq. 
Vol. II. WILL contain 

Life of Major-general Ethan Allen, by Jared Sparks, Professor of History 
in Harvard University. 
" Sebastian Cabot, by Charles llayward, Jr., Esq. 
'* Henry Hudson, by Henry R. Cleveland, Esq. 

" Major-general Joseph Warren, by Alexander H. Everett, LL. D. 
" Major-general Israel Putnam, by O. W. B. Peabody, Esq. 
" David Rittenhouse, by Professor James Renwick, L L. D 



Vol. III. WILL CONTAIN 

Life of William Pinkney, by Henry Wheaton, LL. D., Author of History of 
the Northmen. 
'• Sir Henry Vane, by Rev, Charles W. Upham. 
" Major-oeneual Anthony Wayne, by John Armstrong, Esq. 
" William Ellery, by Edward T. Channing, Esq. 
" Major-general Richard Montgomery, by John Armstrong, Esq. 

THE SACRED PHILOSOPHY OF THE SEASONS, 
illustrating The Perfections of God in the Phenomena of 
the Year. In 4 vols. By the Rev. Henry Duncan, D. D., 
of Ruthwell, Scotland; with important additions, and some 
modifications to adapt it to American readers, by the Rev. 
F. W. P. Greenwood, of Boston. 

The great value and interesting nature of these volumes, to every 
class of individuals, w^ill be seen, at once, by a perusal of the following 
Table of Contents. The work contains a paper for every day in the year. 

VOL. I.— WINTER. 

1. Sunday. — Goodness of God to his Rational Creatures. The Character im- 
pressed on Nature — Compensation. Contrivance. 

COSMICAL arrangements. 

Globular Figure of the Earth. Circulation in the Atmosphere and Ocean. 
The Atmosphere. Ignis Fatuus. ii. Sunday. — General Aspect of Winter. 
Phosphorescence. Aurora Borealis. Meteoric Showers. Variety of Climates. 
Practical Eftect of the Commercial Spirit produced by a Variety of Climates. 
Adaptation of Organized Existences to Seasons and Climates, iii. Sunday. — 
The Omnipresence of God. Adaptation of Organized Existences to the Tropical 
Regions. Adaptation of Organized Existences to Temperate and Polar Climates. 
The Balance Preserved in the Animal and Vegetable Creation. Night. — Its Al- 
ternation with Day. Sleep. Dreaming, iv. Sunday. — The World a State of 
Discipline. 

THE starry heavens. 

General Remarks. Gravitation and Inertia. The Planetary System. The 
Sun as the Source of Light and Heat. Motions of the Planets. Resisting Me- 
dium. V. Sunday. — Divine and Human Knowledge compared. The Satellites. 
Relative Proportions of the Planetary System. Distance of the Fixed Stars. 
Immensity of the Universe. Nebulse. Binary Stars. 

THE MICROSCOPE. 

VI. Sunday. — Discoveries of the Telescope and Microscope compared. Won- 
ders of the Microscope. — Infusory Animalcules. 

HYBERNATION OF PLANTS. 

Plants and Animals compared. Adjustment of the Constitution of Plants to 
the Annual Cycle. Physiological Condition of Plants during Winter. 

HYBERNATION OF INSECTS. 

Instinct, vii. Sunday. — On Seeing God in his Works. Reason in the Lower 
Animals. Eggs. Various States. Bees. The Snail. The Beetle, viii. Suw- 
DAY. — Greatness of God even in the Smallest Things. 

MIGRATIONS OF BIRDS AND QUADRUPEDS DURING WINTEB. 

Birds. Birds which partially migrate. Quadrupeds. 

Christmas-Day. No Season Unpleasant to the Cheerful Mind. ix. 
Sunday. — Proofs of Divine Benevolence in the Works of Creation. 



MIOnATION OF FISHES. 

The Sturgeon, the Herring, the Cod, &c. Cetaceous Animals. Migration from 
the Sea into Rivers. Migration of Eels. 
New-Year's-Day. _ , ^^ , 

Migration of the Land-Crab. x. Sunday.— W^znier an Emblem of Death. 

HYBERNATION OF QUADRUPEDS. 

Clothing. Storing Instincts. Torpidity. 

HYBERNATION OF MAN. 

Privation stimulates his Faculties. Provisions for his Comfort. Adaptation 
of his Constitution to the Season, xi. Sunday.— TAe Unceasing and Universal 
Providence of God. 

INHABITANTS OF THE POLAR REGIONS. 

The Esquimaux. Food and Clothing. Dwellings and Fire. 

FROST. 

Provision for causing Ice to Float on the Surface, The Expansive and Non- 
conducting Power of Ice. Amusements connected with it. xii. Sunday.— 
Winter not Monotonous.— Boundless Variety of Nature. Effects of Frost in the 
Northern Regions. Agency of Frost in Mountainous Regions. Hoar Frost..— 
Foliations on Window-Glass, &c. Beneficent Contrivances relative to Snow. 
Sagacity and Fidelity of the Dog in Snow. 

GEOLOGY. 

Its Phenomena consistent with the Mosaic Account of the Creation, xiii. 
Sunday.— T/^e Difficulty of Comprehending the Operations of Providence. Suc- 
cessive Periods of' Deposit. Successive Periods of Organized Existences. State 
of the Antediluvian World. Indications of the Action of the Deluge at the Period 
assigned to it in Scripture. Cuvier's Calculation respecting the Deluge. Effects 
of the Deluge on the Present Surface of the Earth, xiv. Sunday.— TAe Deluge 
a Divine Judgement. 

VOL. II.— SPRING. 

COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 

General Character of Spring in temperate Climates. Increasing Temperature 
of the Weather, and its Effects. Color and Figure of Bodies. Mountains. Rain. 
Springs, i. Svndxy.— Advantages of Vicissitude. Rivers. 

REPRODUCTION OF VEGETABLES. 

Ve<fetable Soil. Vegetation. Preservation and Distribution of Seeds. Long 
Vitaltty of Seeds. Developement of Seeds and Plants, ii. Sv^ha^y.— Analogy 
of Nature. The Vital Powers of Plants. Flowers.— Their Form, Color, and 
Fragrance. Their Organs of Reproduction, and their Secretion of Honey. The 
Violet. 

REPRODUCTION OF ANIMALS. 

The Animal Structure.— Cellular Texture— Membranes, Tendons, and Liga- 
ments. Secretion, Digestion, and the Circulation of the Blood, iii. Sunday.^ 
^^ The Same Lord over All." The Animal Structure. Gastric Juice. Muscular 
Power. Nature of the Proof of Creative Wisdom derived from the Animal Frame. 
The Lower Orders of Animals. The Higher Orders of Animals. 

INSTINCTS CONNECTED WITH THE REPRODUCTION OF ANIMALS. 

General Remarks. Parental Affection. Insects.— Their Eggs. iv. Sunday. 
-On the Uniformity or Sameness in the Natural and Moral fVorld. Insects.— 
Care of their Offspring, exemplified in Bees and Wasps. The Moth. The Bury- 
inff-Beetle. The Ant. Gall Flies. Deposition of Eggs in the Bodies of Animals, 
and in Insects' Nests. Birds.— Their Eggs. Prospective Contrivances, v. Sun- 
day —On the Domestic Affections. Birds.- Relation of their Bodies to external 
Nature Pairing. Nest-building. The Grossbeak. The Humming-bird. vi. 
Sunday.- Regeneration. Birds.— Nests of Swallows. Hatching of Eggs, and 
rearing the Brood, duadrupeds.- The Lion. The Rabbit. Instincts of the Young. 



Man. — Effects of protracted Childhood on the Individual, Effects of protracted 
Childhood on the Parents and on Society, vii. Sunday. — On Christian Love. 

AGRICULTURE. 

The Difference between the Operations of Reason and Instinct, as affording 
Arguments in Favor of the Divine Perfections. Origin of Agricultural Labor. 
Origin of Property in the Soil, and the Division of Ranks. Effects of Property 
in the Soil. Benefits derived from the Principles which Stimulate Agricultural 
Improvement. The Blessings of Labor, viii. Sunday. — Spiritual Training by 
Affliction. Nature of Soils. Formation of Soils. Management of Soils. — Drain- 
iiig. Irrigation. Blair-Drummond Moss. Products of the Soil. — Dissemination 
of Plants. IX. Sunday. — The Sower. Dissemination of Plants. — The Cocoa- 
Nut Tree. Mitigation of Seasons occasioned by Cultivation. The Labors of the 
Husbandman wisely distributed over the Year. The Corn Plants. — Their Mys- 
terious Origin. Their Distribution over the Globe. Wheat, x. Sunday. — Sab- 
bath Morning. The Corn-Plants. — Barley, Oats, Rice, Maize, and Millet. 
Leguminous Plants. — Peas and Beans. Esculent Roots. — The Potato. Vegetable 
Substances used for Weaving. The Flax Plant, xi. Sunday.— -Trwe Science the 
Handmaid of Religion. Vegetable Substances used for Weaving. The Cotton 
Plant. Vegetable" Substances used for Cordage. — Hemp. Vegetable Substances 
used for Paper. 

ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 

The Sacrament of the Supper. The Crucifixion. The Grave, xil. Sukdat. 
— The Resurrection. 

Enjoyment equally Distributed. The Enjoyments of the Poor m 
Spring. The Woods. 

retrospective view of THE ARGUMENT. 

The Power and Intelligence of the Creator. The Goodness of the Creator. 
The Use and Deficiency of Natural Religion. 



VOL. III.— SUMMER. 

COSMICAL ARRANGEMENTS. 

I. Sunday. — Summer the Perfection of the Year, Increased Heat. Internal 
Heat of the Earth. Increased Light. Electricity. Clouds. Dew. ii. Sun- 
day. — Scriptural Allusions to the Deio. Adaptations of the Faculties of Living 
Beings to the Properties of Light and Air. 

VEGETABLES. 

Growth of Vegetables. Principles on which Horticulture is founded. History 
of Horticulture. The Turnip. Brassica or Cabbage, iii. Sunday. — Spiritual 
Light. Various Garden Vegetables. Flowers — The Rose. Fruits. Ingrafting. 
The Gooseberry and Currant. The Orchard, iv. Sunday. — Spiritual Soil. Pro- 
ductions of Warm Climates used for Human Food. — The Banara. The Date Palm. 
Trees used for other Purposes than Food. Vegetable Substances used in Tan- 
ning. Vegetable Fixed Oils. Vegetable Oils — Essential and Empyreumatic. 
Vegetable Tallow and Wax. v. Sunday. — Spiritual Culture. Vegetable Life 
in the Polar Regions. 

ANIMALS. 

Connexion between the Vegetable and Animal Kingdoms. The Sensorial Or- 
gans. Sensation and Perception. The Argonaut and Nautilus. The Coral In- 
sect. VI. Sunday. — The Invisible Architect. Insect Transformations — Cocoons 
—The Silk-Worm. Insects— Their Larva State. Their Pupa or Chrysalis State. 
Their Imago or Perfect State. The Building Spider. Spider's Webb. vii. Sun- 
day. — Spiritual Transformation. Insects — Legionary and Sanguine Ants. The 
Lion Ant — The Queen-Bee. Physiological Character of Vertebrated Animals. 
Reptiles — The Tortoise — The Serpent, viii. Sunday. — The Old Serpent. Rep- 
tiles—The Saurian Tribes. Birds — Their Relative Position. The Bill. Their 
Power of Flying. Their Power of Vision. Their Voice. Their Selection of 
Food. IX. Sundvy. — The Ascension of Christ. Birds — Their Gregarious Habits. 
Domestic Fowls — The Cock, the Turkey, and the Peacock. The Goose and the 
Duck. Birds of Prey — The Vulture. The Eagle. Predaceous Animals— Their 



Offices in Nature, x. Sunday. — Christ the Judge of the World. Quadrupeds — 
Their Characteristics. Their Bodily Organs. The Bat. The Mouse. Ruminat- 
ing—The Goat and Sheep. Sheep Shearing, xi. Sunday.— CArwf, the Good 
Shepherd. Quadrupeds— The Shepherd's Dog. Ruminating— The Cow. Thick- 
skinned— The Hog. The Horse and Ass. The Elephant. Reflections on the 
Domestic Animals, xii. Sunday. — The Destruction of the Worlds and the 
Renovation of the Human Frame in a Future State. Fishes. Man— His Ex- 
ternal Structure. His Intellectual Powers. His Moral Powers. Physical Effects 
of Climate. Moral Effects of Climate, xiii. Sunday.— TAc Confusion of 
Tongues. Man — Human Language. 

Haymaking— Pleasures of Rural Scenery. 

The Variety, Beauty, and Utility of Ohoanized Existences. 

retrospective view op the argument. 

Adaptation. Future Existence. Discipline. 

XIV. Sunday. — The Day of Pentecost — One Language. 



VOL. IV.— AUTUMN. 

PHENOMENA, PRODUCE, AND LABORS OF THE SEASOX. 

General Character of Autumn. Autumn in the City. Famine in the beginning 
of Autumn. Autumnal Vegetation. Progress of Vegetation in the Com Plants. 
Harvest, i. Sunday. Stability of Nature. Gleaning. The Harvest Moon. 
Harvest-Home. Storing of Corn. Birds.— Their State in Autumn. 

THE WOODS. 

Their Autumnal Appearance, ii. ^vs-dk^.— The Powers of the World to come. 
The Woods. Their Uses. Various Kinds and Adaptations of Timber. 
Origin of the Arts. — Food, Clothing, and Shelter. 

HUMAN FOOD. 

Its Principle. The Moral Operation of the Principle. Its Supply not inad- 
equate. III. ^vs-DK-i.— Christians " Members one of another.'" Provision for 
the future.— Soil still uncultivated. Improved Cultivation. Means now m Ex- 
istence. Vegetable and Animal Food. Fruits— Their Qualities. Drink, iv. 
Sunday— "TAe Br eotio/Li/e." Milk. Wine. Tea and Coffee. Sugar. The 
Pleasures connected with Food. Comparison between the Food of Savage and 
Civilized Man. v. Sunday.—" Give us this Day our daily Bread^ Agriculture 
of the Greeks.— Their Harvest. Agriculture of the Romans. Their Harvest. 
Progress of British Agriculture. Modern Continental Agriculture. 

HUMAN CLOTHING. 

Its Principle. Its Primitive State, vi. Sunday.— TAe Emptiness of Human 
Attainments. Its Ancient History. Commercial History of the Raw Material. 
The Silk Manufacture.— Its Modern History. History of Mechanical Contrivances 
connected with it. Rearing of the Cocoons, &c. The Cotton Manufacture.— Its 
Foreign History, vii. Sunday.- TAe Intellectual and Moral Enjoyments oj 
Heaven. The Cotton Manufacture— Its British History. Improvement of Ma- 
chinery. Its American History.— Introduction of Steam Power. The Woollen 
Manufacture— Its History. The Art of Bleaching. The Art of Dyemg.-Its 
Orio'in and Ancient History, viii. Sunday.— TAe Social and Religious Enjoy- 
ments of Heaven. The Art of Dyeing.— Its Modern History. Its Chemical 
Principles. 

ARCHITECTURE. 

Its Principle. Its original State.— Materials employed. Tools employed. It« 
Modifications by the Influence of Habit and Religion, ix. SvT^^xY.-The Chil- 
dren of the World wiser than the Children of Light. Architecture— Ar^cient His- 
?oryandPractice.-Egypt.-Thebes. The Pyramids. India.-ExcavatedTempk^ 
Central Asia— Tower of Babel, or Temple of Belus. Babylon. Nineveh. PeU^a. 
Greece, x. SvvvxY.— Divine Strength made perfect in Human Weakness. Rome. 
The Gothic Style. Britain. Bridges. Aqueducts. Railways, xi. Sunday.— ^n 
Autumnal Sabbath Evening. Prospective Improvement of Locomotive Power. 
Lighthouses— The Eddystone Lighthouse. The Thames Tunnel. 



CLOSE OP AUTUMN. 

Miscellaneous Reflections on Autumnal Appearances. The Landscape at the 
Close of Autumn, xii. Sunday The Fall of the Leaf. 

GENERAL SUMMARY OF THE ARGUMENT. 

Government of the World by General Laws. Government of the World by a 
Particular Providence. Contrast between Savage and Civiliaed Life, as regards 
the Arts. As regards Domestic Comforts. As regards Commerce. As regards 
Moral Cultivation, xni. Sunday. — " TAe Harvest is the End of the World." 



The preceding ten volumes are now ready for delivery ;-• 
and they will be followed, with all due despatch, by the 
subjoined, among others, provided they are approved by 
the Board of Education. 

LIFE OF WASHINGTON, (with a portrait, and nu- 
merous engravings,) by the Rev. Charles W. Upham, 
Author of ' the Life of Sir Henry Vane.^ 

THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIF- 
FICULTIES ; in two volumes, with Preface and Notes, 
by Francis Wayland, D. D., President of Brown Uni- 
versity. 

THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIF- 
FICULTIES, illustrated by incidents in the Lives of 
American Individuals ; in one volume, with Portraits. 

HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY, in two volumes, with illustra- 
tive wood cuts, by Robley Dunglison, M. D., Professor 
of the Institutes of Medicine in the Jefferson Medical College, 
Philadelphia ; Author of ' Elements of Hygiene, ' ' The Medi- 
cal Student,^ 'Principles of Medical Practice,' S^c. Sfc. 

CHEMISTRY, with illustrative wood cuts, by Benja- 
min SiLLiMAN, M. D., LL. D,, Professor of Chemistry, 
Mineralogy, Sfc. in Yale College. 

ASTRONOMY, by Dennison Olmsted, Professor of 
JVatural Philosophy and Astronomy in Yale College. 

This work will be a popular treatise on the Science ; it will also enter 
fully into its history, and consider the subject of Natural Theology, so 
far as it is related to Astronomy. 

NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, by Professor Olmsted. 
Both of these works will be very fully illustrated by diagrams and 
wood engravings. 



THE USEFUL ARTS, considered in connexion with 
the Applications of Science; in two volumes, with many 
cuts, by Jacob Bigelow, M. D., Professor of Materia 
Medica in Harvard University ^ Author of ' the Klements of 
Technology,^ Sfc. S^c. 

We subjoin a summary of the Topics discussed in the several chap- 
ters of this Important Work, that its nature and objects may be the 
more clearly understood. 

CHAPTER I. 

Outline of the History of the Arts in Ancient and Modern Times. 

Arts of the Egyptians, Assyrians, Jews, Hindoos, Chinese, Greeks, Romans, 
Dark Ages, Modern Times, Nineteenth Century. 

CHAPTER II. 

Of the Materials used in the Arts. 

Materials from the Mineral Kingdom — Stones and Earths — Marble, Granite, 
Sienite, Freestone, Slate, Soapstone, Serpentine, Gypsum, Alabaster, Chalk, 
Fluor Spar, Flint, Porphyry, Buhrstone, Novaculite, Precious Stones, Emery, 
Lead, Pumice, Tufa, Peperino, Tripoli, Clay, Asbestus, Cements, Limestone, 
Puzzolana, Tarras, Other Cements — Maltha. Metals — Iron, Copper, Lead, Tin, 
Mercury, Gold, Silver, Platina, Zinc, Antimony, Bismuth, Arsenic, Manganese, 
Nickel. Combustibles, &c — Bitumen, Amber, Coal, Anthracite, Graphite, Peat, 
Sulphur. Materials from the Fegetable Kingdom — Wood, Bark, Oak, Hickory, 
Ash, Elm, Locust, Wild Cherry, Chestnut, Beech, Basswood, Tulip Tree, Maple, 
Birch, Button Wood, Persimmon, Black Walnut, Tupelo, Pine, Spruce, Hemlock, 
White Cedar, Cypress, Larch, Arbor Vita;, Red Cedar, Willow, Mahogany, 
Boxwood, Lignum Vitae, Cork, Hemp, Flax, Cotton, Turpentine, Caoutchouc, 
Oils, Resins, Starch, Gum. Materials from the Animal Kingdom — Skins, Hair, 
and Fur, Quills and Feathers, Wool, Silk, Bone and Ivory, Horn, Tortoise Shell, 
Whale Bone, Glue, Oil, Wax, Phosphorus. Materials used in Painting, Dyeing, 
and Varnishing. 

CHAPTER III. 

Of the Form and Strength of Materials. 

Modes of Estimation, Stress and Strain, Resistance, Extension, Compression, 
Lateral Strain, Stiffness, Tubes, Strength, Place of Strain, Incipient Fracture, 
Shape of Timber, Torsion, Limit of Bulk, Practical Remarks. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Preservation of Materials. 

Stones, Metals, Organic Substances, Temperature, Dryness, Wetness, Antisep- 
tics. Timber — Felling, Seasoning. Preservation of Timber. — Preservation of 
Animal Texture — Embalming, Tanning, Parchment, Catgut, Gold Beater's Skin. 
Specimens in Natural History — Appert's Process. 

CHAPTER V. 

Of Dividing and Uniting Materials. 

Cohesion. Modes of Division — Fracture, Cutting Machines, Penetration, Bor- 
ing and Drilling, Turning, Attrition, Sawing, Saw Mill, Circular Saw, Crushing, 
Stamping Mill, Bark Mill, Oil Mill, Sugar Mill, Cider Mill, Grinding, Grist Mill, 
Color Mill, Modes of Union — Insertion, Interposition, Binding, Locking, Ce- 
menting, Glueing, Welding, Soldering, Casting, Fluxes, Moulds. 



10 

CHAPTER VI. 

Of Changing the Color of Materials. 

Of Applying Superficial Color — Painting, Colors, Preparation, Application, 

Crayons, Water Colors, Distemper, Fresco, Encaustic Painting, Oil Painting, 

Varnishing, Japanning, Polishing, Lacquering, Gilding. Of Changing Intrinsic 

Color — Bleaching, Photogenic Drawing, Dyeing, Mordants, Dyes, Calico Printing. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Arts of Writing and Printing. 

Letters. Invention of Letters, Arrangement of Letters, Writing Materials, 
Papyrus, Herculaneum, Manuscripts, Parchment, Paper, Instruments, Ink, Copy 
ing Machines, Printing, Types, Cases, Sizes, Composing, Imposing, Signatures, 
Correcting the Press, Press Work, Printing Press, Stereotyping, Machine Print- 
ing. History. 

CHAPTER VIII, 
Arts of Designing and Painting. 

Divisions, Perspective, Field of Vision, Distance and Foreshortening, Defini- 
tions, Plate II — Problems, Instrumental, Perspective, Mechanical Perspective, 
Perspectographs, Projections, Isometrical Perspective, Chiaro Oscuro, Light and 
Shade, Association, Direction of Light, Reflected Light, Expression of Shape. 
Eyes of a Portrait — Shadows, Aerial Perspective, Coloring, Colors, Shades, Tone, 
Harmony, Contrast. Remarks. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Arts of Engraving and Lithography. 

Engraving, Origin, Materials, Instruments, Styles, Line, Engraving, Medal 
Ruling, Stippling, Etching, Mezzo-tinto, Aqua Tinta, Copperplate Printing, Col- 
ored Engravings, Steel Engraving, Wood Engraving. Lithography — Principles, 
Origin, Lithographic Stones, Preparation, Lithographic Ink and Chalk, Mode of 
Drawing, Etching the Stone, Printing, Printing Ink. Remarks. 

CHAPTER X. 

Of Sculpture, Modelling, and Casting. 

Subjects — Modelling, Casting in Plaster, Bronze Casting, Practice of Sculpture, 
Materials, Objects of Sculpture, Gem Engraving, Cameos, Intaglios, Mosaic, 
iScagliola. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Of Architecture and Building. 

Architecture — Elements, Foundations, Column, Wali,Lintel, Arch, Abutments, 
Arcade, Vault, Dome, Plate I, Roof, Styles of Building, Definitions, Measures, 
Drawings, Restorations, Egyptian Style., The Chinese Style, The Grecian Style, 
Orders of Architecture — Doric Order, Ionic Order, Corinthian Order, Caryatides, 
Grecian Temple, Grecian Theatre, Remarks, Plate IV, Roman Style, Tuscan 
Order, Roman Doric, Roman Ionic, Composite Order, Roman Structures, Re- 
marks, Plate V, Greco-Gothic Style, Saracenic Style, Gothic Style, Definitions, 
Plate VI, Plate VII, Application. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Arts of Heating and Ventilation. 

Production of Heat — Fuel, Weight of Fuel, Combustible Matter of Fuel, Water 
in Fuel, Charcoal, Communication of Heat, Radiated and Conducted Heat, Fire 
in the Open Air, Fire Places, Admission of Cold Air, Open Fires, Franklin Stove, 
Rumford Fire Place, Double Fire Place, Coal Grate, Anthracite Grate, Burns' 
Grate, Building a Fire, Furnaces, Stoves, Russian Stove, Cockle, Cellar Stoves, 
and Air Flues, Healing, by Water, Heating by Steam, Retention of Heat, Causes 
of Loss, Crevices, Chimneys, Entries and Sky Lights, Windows, F'entilation,Ob- 
jects. Modes, Ventilators, Culverts, Smoky Rooms, Damp Chimneys, Large Fire 



11 

Places, Close Rooma, Contiguous Doors, Short Chimneys, Opposite Fire Places, 
Neighboring Eminences, Turucap, &c., Contiguous Flues. Burning of Smoke. 

CHAPTER XIII, 

Arts of Illumination. 

Flame— Support of Flame, Torches and Candles, Lamps, Reservoirs, Astral 
Lamp, Hydrostatic Lamps, Automaton Lamp, Mechanical Lamps, Fountain Lamp, 
Argand Lamp, Reflectors, Hanging of Pictures, Transparency of Flame, Glasa 
Shades, Sinumbral Lamp, Measurement of Light, Gas Lights, Coal Gas, Oil Gas, 
Gasometer, Portable Gas Lights, Safety Lamp, Lamp without Flame, Modes of 
procuring Light. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Arts of Locomotion. 

Motion of Animals, Inertia, Aids to Locomotion, Wheel Cariages. Wheels, Rol- 
lers, Size of Wheels, Line of Traction, Broad Wheels, Forra of Wheels, Axletrees, 
Springs, Attaching of Horses, Highways, Roads, Pavements, McAdam Roads, 
Bridges, 1, Wooden Bridges, 2, Stone Bridges, 3, Cast Iron Bridges, 4, Suspen- 
sion Bridges, 5, Floating Bridges, Rati Roads, Edge Railway, Tram Road, Single 
Rail, Passings, Propelling Power, Locomotive Engines, Canals, Embankments, 
Aqueducts, Tunnels, Gates and Weirs, Locks, Boats, Size of Canals, Sailing, Form 
of a Ship, Keel and Rudder, Effect of the Wind, Stability of a Ship, Steam Boats, 
Diving Bell, Submarine Navigation, Aerostation, Balloon, Parachute. 

CHAPTER XV. 
Elements of Machinery. 

Machines, Motion, Rotanj or Circular Motion, Band Wheels, Rag Wheels, 
Toothed Wheels, Spiral Gear, Bevel Gear, Crown Wheel, Universal Joint, Per- 
petual Screw, Brush Wheels, Ratchet Wheel, Distant Rotary Motion, Change of 
Velocity, Fusee, Alternate or Reciprocating Motion, Cams, Crank, Parallel Mo- 
tion, Sun and Planet Wheel, Inclined Wheel, Epicycloidal Wheel, Rack and Seg- 
ment, Rack and Pinion, Belt and Segment, Scapements, Continued Rectilinear 
Motion, Band, Rack, Universal Lever, Screw, Change of Direction, Toggle Joint, 
Of Engaging and Disengaging Machinery, Of Equalizing Motion, Governor, 
Fly Wheel, Friction, Remarks. 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Of the Moving Forces used in the Arts. 

Sources of 
Power, Overshot 

Wheel, Lambert's , , ,^ . . ,,_. , ... „, _ 

Power Vertical Windmill, Adjustment of Sails, Horizontal Windmill, S^eaT/i 
Power, Steam, Applications of Steam, By Condensation, By Generation, By E.v- 
pansion. The Steam Engine, Boiler Appendages, Engine, Noncondensing Engine, 
Condensing Engines, Description, E.vpansion, Engines, Valves, Pistons, Parallel 
Motion, Historical Remarks, Projected Improvements, Rotative Engines, Use ot 
Steam at High Temperatures, Use of Vapors of Low Temperature, Gas Engines, 
Steam Carriages, Steam Gun, Gunpowder, Manufacture, Detonation, Force, Pro- 
perties of a Gun, Blasting. 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Arts of Conveying Water. 

Of Conducting Water-kquedncis, Water Pipes, Friction of Pipes, Obstruction 
of Pipes, Syphon, Of Raising Heater, Scoop Wheel, Persian Wheel, Noria, Rope 
Pump, Hydreole Archimedes' Screw, Spiral Pump, Centrifugal Pump, Commoa 
Pumjs, Forcing Pumps, Plunger Pump, Delahire's Pump, Hydrostatic Press, 
Liftiu-' Pump, Bag Pump, Double Acting Pump, Rolling Pump, Eccentric Pump, 
Arrangement of Pipes, Chain Pump, Schemnitz Vessels, or Hungarian Machine, 
Hero's Fountain, Atmospheric Machines, Hydraulic Ram, Of Projecting Water. 
Fountains, Fire Engines, Throwing Wheel. 




12 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Arts of Combining Flexible Fibres. 

Theory of Twisting, Rope Making, Cotton Manufacture^ Elementary Inven- 
tions, Batting, Carding. Drawing, Roving, Spinning, Mule Spinning, Warping, 
Dressing, Weaving, Twilling, Double Weaving, Cross Weaving, Lace, Carpeting, 
Tapestry, Velvets, Linens, Woolens, Felting, Paper Making. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Arts of Horology. 

Sun Dial, Clepsydra, V^ater Clock, Clock Work, Maintaining Power, Regulat- 
ing Movement, Pendulum, Balance, Scapement, Description of a Clock, Striking 
Part, Description of a Watch. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Arts of Metallurgy. 

Extraction of Metals, Assaying, Alloys, Gold, Extraction, Cupellation, Parting, 
Cementation, Alloy, Working, Gold Beating, Gilding on Metals, Gold Wire, 
Silver, Extraction, Working, Coining, Plating, Copper, Extraction, Working, 
Brass, Manufacture, Buttons, Pins, Bronze, Lead, Extraction, Manufacture, Sheet 
Lead, Lead Pipes, Leaden Shot, Tin, Block Tin, Tin Plates, Silvering of Mirrors, 
Iron, Smelting, Crude Iron, Casting, Malleable Iron, Forging, Rolling and Slit- 
ting, Wire Drawing, Nail Making, Gun Making, Steel, Alloys of Steel, Case Hard- 
ening, Tempering, Cutlery. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Arts of Vitrification. 

Glass, Materials, Crown Glass, Fritting, Melting, Blowing, Annealing, Broad 
Glass, Flint Glass, Bottle Glass, Cylinder Glass, Plate Glass, Moulding, Pressing, 
Cutting, Stained Glass, Enamelling, Artificial Gems, Devitrification, Reaumur's 
Porcelain, Crystallo-Ceramie, Glass Thread, Remarks. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Arts of Induration by Heat. 

Bricks, Tiles, Terra Cotta, Crucibles, Pottery, Operations, Stone Ware, White 
Ware, Throwing, Pressing, Casting, Burning, Printing, Glazing, China Ware, 
European Porcelain, Etruscan Vases. 

A FAMILIAR TREATISE ON THE CONSTITU- 
TION OF THE UNITED STATES, by the Hon. Judge 
Story, LL. D., Author of ' Commentaries on the Constitu- 
tion,' Sfc. 

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF 
FRANKLIN, by Jared Sparks, L L. D., Professor of His- 
tory in Harvard University y Author of ' the Life and Writings 
of Washington, ' ' the Life and Wjitings of Franklin, ' Sfc .S^c. 

CHRISTIANITY AND KNOWLEDGE, by the Rev. 
Royal Robbins. 

The design of this Work is to show what Christianity has done for 
the human intellect, and what that has done for Christianity. 



13 

THE LORD OF THE SOIL, OR, PICTURES OF 
AGRICULTURAL LIFE; by Rev. Warren Burton, 
Author of ' Tlie District School as it Was,' ^c. S^c. 

SCIENCE AND THE ARTS, by the Rev. Alonzo 

Potter, D. D., Professor of Moral Philosophy and Rhetoric, 
in Union College, Schenectady, JY. Y. 

The design of this Work is to call attention to the fact that the Arta 
are the result of intelligence— that they have, each one its principles 
or theonj— that these principles are furnished by Science, and that he, 
therefore, who would understand the Arts, must know something of 
Science ; while, on the other hand, he who would see the true power 
and worth of Science ought to study it in its applications. The work 
will be made up o^ facts, illustrating and enforcing these views— so ar- 
ranged as to exhibit the invariable connexion between processes in Jtrt, 
and laws m JSTature. The importance of such a work requires no 
comment. 

AGRICULTURE, by the Hon. Judge Buel, of Albany, 
Editor of ' the Cultivator. ' 

This Work is intended as an aid to the Young Farmer, and from 
the known character of the gentleman who has it in hand, there can be 
no doubt but that it will be executed in a highly satisfactory manner. 
The following, among other subjects, will be therein treated of, viz. 

1. The Importance of Agriculture to a Nation. 

2. Improvement in our Agriculture practicnble and necessary. 

3. Some of the principles of the new and improved Husbandry. 

4. Agriculture considered as an Employment. 

5. Earths and Soils. 

6. Improvement of the Soil. 

7. Analogy between Animal and Vegetable Nutrition. 

8. Further Improvement of the Soil. ' 

9- " " by Manures, Animal and Vegetable. 

10. " " by Mineral Manures. 

11. Principles and Operations of Draining. 

12. Principles of Tillage. ^ 
13 Operations of Tillage, &c. &c. 

Due notice will also be taken of alternating crops, root husbandry, mixed hus- 
bandry, the management of pasture and meadow lands, the garden, orchard, &c. 

Cuts, illustrative of the various operations spoken of and recommended, will 
be given. 

GEOLOGY AND MINERALOGY, by Charles T. 
Jackson, M. D., Geological Surveyor of Maine and Rhode 
Island. 

STATISTICS OF THE UNITED STATES, by 

George Tucker, Pr-ofessor of Moral Philosophy in the Uni- 
versity of Virginia, Author of * the Life of Jefferson,' Sfc. Sfc. 



14 

AMERICAN TREES AND PLANTS, used for medi- 
cinal and economical purposes and employed in the Arts, 
with numerous engravings ; by Professor Jacob Bigelow, 
Author of ' Plants of Boston,' 'Medical Botany,' Sfc. Sfc. 

MORAL EFFECTS OF INTERNAL IMPROVE- 
MENTS, by Robert Pcantoul, Jr., Esq. 

LIVES OF THE REFORMERS, by Rev. Romeo El- 
ton. Professor of Languages in Brown tlniversity. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF DISTINGUISH- 
ED FEMALES, by Mrs. Emma C. Embury, o^ Brooklyn, 
JV. Y. 

SKETCHES OF AMERICAN CHARACTER, by 
Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, Editor of ' the Ladies' Book,' Author 
of the ^Ladies' Wreath,' ' Flora's Literpreter ,' <Sj'c. S^c. 

DO RIGHT AND HAVE RIGHT, by Mrs. Almira 

H. Lincoln Phelps, Principal of the Literary Department 
of the Young Ladies' Seminary, at West Chester, Pa., 
formerly of the Troy Seminary, JV. Y., Author of * Familiar 
Lectures on Botany,' 'Female Student,' Sfc. 

The object of this Work may be gathered from the following r^ 
marks of Mrs. Phelps. " A popular work on the principles of law, with 
stories illustrating these principles, might be very profitable to people 
in common life, as well as to children. The ward cheated by a guard- 
ian, the widow imposed on by administrators or executors, the wife 
abandoned by a husband, with whom she had trusted her paternal in- 
heritance, the partner in business, overreached by his crafty associate, 
for want of a knowledge of the operations of the law, — all these might 
be exhibited in such a way as to teach the necessity of legal knowledge 
to both sexes, and to all ages and classes." 

SCENES IN THE LIFE OF JOANNA OF SICILY, 
by Mrs. E. F. Ellet, of Columbia, S. C. 

This is written with a view to young readers, and for the purpose of 
illustrating important historical events. 

The Publishers have also in preparation for this Series, 
a History of the United States, and of other Countries, a 
History of the Aborigines of our Country, a History of 
Inventions, Works on Botany, Natural History, &c. &c. 
Many distinguished writers, not here mentioned, have been 
engaged, whose names will be in due time announced, 
although at present, we do not feel at liberty to make them 
public. 



15 

Among the works prepared, and in a state of forward- 
rxss, for the Juvenile Series are the following, viz. 

MEANS AND ENDS, OR SELF TRAINING, by Miss 
(Jaromne Sedgwick, Aidhor of ' The Poor Rick Man, 
and Rich Poor Man,' ' Live and Let Live,' ' Home,' Sfc Sec 
NEW-ENGLAND HISTORICAL SKETCHES,' by 
N. Hawthorne, Jiidiior of' Twice Told Talcs,' S)X. 

CONVERSATIONS AND STORIES BY THE 
FIRE SIDE, by Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, 

FAILURE NOT RUIN, by Horatio G. Hale, A. M. 
TALES IN PR0Sl!2, blending instruction with amuse- 
ment ; by Miss Mary E. Lee, of Charleston, S. C. 

PICTURES OF EARLY LIFE :— Stories; each in- 
culcating some moral lesson ; by Mrs. Emma C. Embury, 
of Brooklyn, J\\ Y. 

FREDERICK HASKELL'S VOYAGE ROUND 
THE WORLD, by H. G. Hale, A. M., Philologist to 
the Exploring Expedition. 

BIOGRAPHY FOR THE YOUNG, by Miss E. Rob- 
bins, Author of Jhnerican Popular Lessons,' Sequel to the 
same, Sfc. 

THE WONDERS OF NATURE, by A. J. Stansbury, 
Esq., of Washington City ; illustrated by numerous cuts. 

WORKS OF ART, by the same ; illustrated by numer- 
ous cuts. 

PLEASURES OF TASTE, and other Stories select- 
ed from the Writings of Jane Taylor, with a sketch of her 
hfe, (and a likeness,) by Mrs. S. J. Hale. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF MRS. 
BARBAULD, with a Life and Portrait. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF MARIA 
EDGEVVORTH, with a Life and Portrait. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF MRS. 
SHERWOOD, with a Life and Portrait. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF DR, 
AIKIN, irilh a Sketch of his Life, by Mrs. Hale. 

CHEMISTRY FOR BEGINNERS, by Benjamln Sil- 
liman, Jr., Assistant in the Depart ment of Cliemislry, Min- 
eralogy, and Geology in Yalt College ; aided by Professor 
Silliman. 



16 

MY SCHOOLS AND MY TEACHERS, by Mrs. A. 
H. Lincoln Phelps. 

The author's design, in this work, is to describe the Common Schools 
as they were in New-England at the beginning of the present century ; 
to delineate the peculiar characters of difierent Teachers ; and to give 
a sketch of her various school companions, with their progress in after 
life, endeavoring thereby to show that the child, while at school, is 
forming the future man, or woman. 

It is not the intention of the PubUshers to drive these 
works through the Press with a railroad speed, in the hope 
of securing the market, by the multiplicity of the publica- 
tions cast upon the community; they rely for patronage, 
upon the intrinsic merits of the works, and consequently 
time must be allowed the writers to mature and systematize 
them. The more surely to admit of this, the two Series 
will be issued in sets of five and ten volumes at a time. 
Besides the advantage above alluded to, that will result 
from such an arrangement, it will place The School Li- 
brary within the reach of those Districts, which, from the 
limited amount of their annual funds, would not otherwise 
be enabled to procure it. 

The works will be printed on paper and with type ex- 
pressly manufactured for the Library; will be bound in 
cloth, with leather backs and corners, having gilt titles 
upon the backs, and for greater durability, cloth hinges 
inside of the covers. 

The larger Se7ies will be furnished to Schools, Academies, 
&c., at seventy-jive cents per volume, and the Juvenile Series 
at forty cents per volume ; which the Publishers advisedly 
declare to be cheaper, than any other series of works that 
can be procured at home or abroad, bearing in mind their 
high intellectual character, and the style of their mechanical 
execution. 

The Publishers solicit orders from School Committees, 
Trustees, Teachers, and others, tor either or both Series, 
and wish particular directions how, to whom, and to what 
•place the books shall be forwarded. 

Annexed are Specimen Pages of the two Series. 



THE ARTERIES 



271 




carried into the reservoir, and they fill it half full of water, 
C ; the mouth of the pipe, D, which is to convey away 
the water, reaches into the water in the reservoir. As 
the water rises, the air is compressed : so that, although 
the pumps act alternately, the elasticity of the contained 
air acts uninterruptedly in pressing on the surface of the 
water, and raising it by the tube, D, in an equable stream. 
The elasticity of the contained air, fills up the interval 
betwee-n the actions of the pumps, and admits of no in- 
terruption to the force with which the water is propelled 
upwards. 

Surely these are sufficient indications of the necessity 
of three powers acting in propelling the blood from the 
heart. The first, is a sudden and powerful action of 
the ventricle : the second, is a contraction of the artery, 
somewhat similar, excited by its distention : the third, 
though a property independent of life, is a power permit- 
ting no interval or alternation ; it is the elasticity of the 
coats of the artery : and these three powers, duly adjust- 
ed, keep up a continued stream in the blood-vessels. It 
is true, that when an artery is wounded, the blood flows 



308 



NATURAL THEOLOGY. 



The superior sagacity of animals which hunt their 
prey, and which, consequently, depend for their liveli- 
hood upon their nose, is well known in its use ; but not 
at all known in the organization which produces it. 

The external ears of beasts of prey, of lions, tigers, 
wolves, have their trumpet-part, or concavity, standing 
forward, to seize the sounds which are before them — 
viz., the sounds of the animals which they pursue or 
watch. The ears of animals of flight are turned back- 
ward, to give notice of the approach of their enemy from 
behind, whence he may steal upon them unseen. This 
is a critical distinction, and is mechanical ; but it may be 
suggested, and, I think, not without probability, that it 
is the effect of continual habit. 




[Heads of the hare and wolf, showing the different manner 
in which the ears are turned. — Am. Ed.] 

The eyes of animals which follow their prey by night, 
as cats, owls, &c., possess a faculty not given to those 
of other species, namely, of closing the pupil entirely. 



OF COLUMBUS. 61 

It is difficult even for the imagination to conceiv^e the 
feelings of such a man, at the moment of so sublime a 
discovery. What a bewildering crowd of conjectures 
must have thronged upon his mind, as to the land which 
lay before him, covered with darkness. That it was 
fruitful was evident from the vegetables which floated 
from its shores. He thought, too, that he perceived in 
the balmy air the fragrance of aromatic groves. The 
moving light which he had beheld, proved that it was the 
residence of man. But what were its inhabitants? Were 
they like those of other parts of the globe ; or were they 
some strange and monstrous race, such as the imagina- 
tion in those times was prone to give to all remote and 
unknown regions? Had he come upon some wild island, 
far in the Indian seas; or was this the famed Cipango 
itself, the object of his golden fancies? A thousand 
speculations of the kind must ITave swarmed upon him, 
as he watched for the night to pass away; wondering 
whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilder- 
ness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and 
gilded cities, and all the splendors of oriental civilization. 



CHAPTER XI. 

First Landing of Columbus in the J\'*eiv World . — Cruise 
among the Bahama Islands. — Discovery of Cuba and 
Hispaniola. [1492.] 

When the day dawned, Columbus saw before him a 
level and beautiful island, several leagues in extent, of 
great freshness and verdure, and covered with trees like 
a continual orchard. Though every thing appeared in 
the wild luxuriance of untamed nature, yet the island was 
evidently populous, for the inhabitants were seen issuing 
from the woods, and running from all parts to the shore. 
They were all perfectly naked, and from their attitudes 
6 I. 



286 



A VISIT TO PALOS. 



residence of Martin Alonzo or Vicente Yanez Pinzon, 
in the time of Columbus. 




We now arrived at tJTe church of St. George, in the 
porch of which Columbus first proclaimed to the inhabi- 
tants of Palos the order of the sovereigns, that they 
should furnish him with ships for his great voyage of dis- 
covery. This edifice has lately been thoroughly repaired, 
and, being of sohd mason-work, promises to stand for 
ages, a monument of the discoverers. It stands outside 
of the village, on the brow of a hill, looking along a little 
valley toward the river. The remains of a Moorish 
arch prove it to have been a mosque in former times ; 
just above it, on the crest of the hill, is the ruin of a 
Moorish castle. 

I paused in the porch, and endeavored to recall the 
interesting scene that had taken place there, when Co- 
lumbus, accompanied by the zealous friar Juan Perez, 
caused the public notary to read the royal order in pres- 
ence of the astonished alcaldes, regidors, and alguazils ; 
but it is difficult to conceive the consternation that must 
have been struck into so remote a little community, by 
this sudden apparition of an entire stranger among them, 
bearing a command that they should put their persons 
and ships at his disposal, and sail with him away into the 
unknown wilderness of the ocean. 

The interior of the church has nothing remarkable, 



THE COTTON PLANT. 335 

work of creation and the work of grace revealed in the 
word of God. Proofs corroborative of the autlienticity 
of the Bible, have been gathered from those very sources 
which formerly were applied to by the skeptic for his 
sharpest weapons ; and at this moment, (such is the secu- 
rity with which Christianity may regard the progress of 
knowledge,) there does not exist in our own country, nor, 
so far as I am aware, in any other, one philosopher of 
eminence who has ventured to confront Christianity and 
philosophy, as manifestly contradictory. May we not 
venture to hope that, in a very short time, the weak darts 
of minor spirits, which from time to time are still permit- 
ted to assail our bulwarks, will be also quenched, and the 
glorious Gospel, set free from all the oppositions of sci- 
ence falsely so called, shall walk hand in hand over the 
earth with a philosophy always growing in humility, be- 
cause every day becoming more genuine. C. J. C. D. 



TWELFTH WEEK— MONDAY. 

VEGETABLE SUBSTANCES USED FOR WEAVING. THE COTTON- 
PLANT. 

The cotton-plant, another vegetable substance, exten- 
sively used in manufactures, differs materially from that 
already described, in its properties, appearance, and hab- 
its. Instead of being generally diffused over temperate 
climates, it belongs more properly to the torrid zone, and 
the regions bordering on it ; and instead of being chiefly 
confined to one species, as to its peculiar and useful qual- 
ities, its varieties seem scarcely to have any limit, extend- 
ing from an herb* of a foot or two in height, to a treef 

* Gossypium herbaceum, or common herbaceous cotton-plant. 

t Bombax ceiba, or American silk cotton-tree. — [The Baobab, or 
Adansonia digitata, an enormous and long-hved tree, also belongs to 
this family. But it is incorrect to call these trees " varieties " of the 
cotton plant. They are nearly allied to it, indeed, but they stand in dif- 
ferent divisions of the great order of malvncex, or mallows ; and the 
downy contents of their pods are of little use compared with true cotton. 
— Am. Ed.] 



378 GLOSSARY. 

Coup de main, (French term,) a military expression, denoting an in- 
stantaneous, sudden, unexpected attack upon an enemy. 

Dulce et decorum, est pro pairia mori. It is delightful and glorious to 
die for one's country. 

Effigies Seb. Caboti Jlngli filii Joannis Caboti militis aurati. As 
will be seen by the text, where this inscription occurs, (p. 121,) 
there is an ambiguity in the application of the last two words. The 
other part of the inscription, may be rendered, " the portrait (or 
likeness) of Sebastian Cabot, of England, son of John Cabot." 
Miles, or militis, means, literally, a warrior, or soldier, or officer 
of the army ; and in the English law, sornetinies indicates a knight. 
Auratxis, or aurati, means gilt, gilded, or decked with gold. Eques 
means a horseman, or knight, who was frequently called eques aura- 
tus, because, anciently, none but knights were allowed to beautify 
their armor, and other habiliments, with gold. 

En masse, m a body, in the mass, altogether. 

Eques, and Equcs auratus. See Effigies. 

Fascine, {pi. fascines,) a bundle of fagots, or small branches of trees, 
or sticks of wood, bound together, for filling ditches, &,c. 

Formula, {])\. formidoi,) a prescribed form or order. 

Geodcetic, relating to the art of measuring surfaces. 

Gramina, grasses. 

Green Mountain Boys, a term applied, during the Revolutionary War» 
to the inhabitants of Vermont, (Green Mountain,) particularly those 
who were in the army. 

Gymnotus, the electric eel. 

Habeas Corpus, "you may have the body." A writ, as it has been 
aptly termed, of personal freedom ; which secures, to any individual, 
who may be imprisoned, the privilege of having his cause imme- 
diately removed to the highest court, that the judges may decide 
whether there is ground for his imprisonment or not. 

Hipparchus, a celebrated mathematician and astronomer of Nicoea, in 
Bithynia, who died 125 years before the Christian era. He was 
the first after Thales and Sulpicius Gall us, who found out the exact 
time of eclipses, of which he made a calculation for 600 years. He is 
supposed to have been the first, who reduced astronomy to a science, 
and prosecuted the study of it systematically. 

Loyalists, Royalists, Refugees, and Tories. In the times of the Revo- 
lution, these terms were used as technical or party names, and were 
sometimes applied indiscriminately. Strictly speaking, however, 
Loyalists, were those whose feelings or oj)inions were in favor of 
the mother country, but who declined taking part in the Revolu- 
tion ; Royalists, were those who preferred or favored, a kingly gov- 
ernment ; Refugees, were those who fled from the country and 
sought the protection of the British ; and Tories, were those, who 
actually opposed the war, and took part with the enemy, aiding 
then« by ail the rneans in their power. 

Magnetic Variation, a deviation of the needle in the mariner's com- 
pass, from an exact North and South direction. 

Master-at-arms, an officer appoinl».'d to take charge of the small arms 
in a ship of war, and to teach the officers and crew the exercise of 



18mo. pages. 

MARY BOND IN A SICK-ROOM. 129 

ring it all ihe time. Of course I do not make it 
every time it is wanted, for sometimes, when I 
want it extra good, I boil and stir it a full hour, 
and then I put it away in a close vessel and in a 
cool place. For Raymond, or for any one get- 
ting well, and free from fever, I put in a third 
wheat flour, and half milk. You see it is a very 
simple process, sir." 

"Yes — simple enough. But it is to these 
simple processes that people will not give their 
attention." 

Mary had the happiness of seeing Raymond 
sitting up before their parents returned, and when 
they drove into the great gate, and up the lane, 
he was in his rocking-chair by the window, watch- 
ing for them. They had heard of his illness, and 
were most thankful to find him so far recovered. 
The Doctor chanced to be present when they 
arrived. '' O, Doctor!" said Mrs. Bond, after 
the first greetings were over, " how shall I ever 
be grateful enough to you .''" 

" I have done very little, Mrs. Bond," replied 
the honest Doctor. " In Raymond's case, medi- 
cine could do little or nothing. Nature had been 
overtasked, and wanted rest and soothing. Under 
God, Raymond owes his recovery to Mary." 

"O, mother!" exclaimed Raymond, bursting 
into tears, " she is the best sister in the world !" 

" She is the best sister in the tioo worlds !" 
cried little Grace Bond, a child of five years old. 

A source of true comfort and happiness is such 
a child and such a sister as Mary Bond ! — a light 



138 THE LOST CHILDREN. 

US, as soon as we are missed ; let us keep on 
and perhaps we may find some other path." 

The poor children proceeded on their course, 
unconscious that every step was taking them deep- 
er into the forest, until, completely bewildered by 
the thick darkness, and overcome with fatigue, they 
could go no further. "Let us pray to God, and 
then we can lie down, and die in peace," said 
George ; and the innocent children knelt down on 
the fallen leaves, and lisped their simple prayers, 
as they were accustomed to do at their mother's 
side. 

"We must try to find some shelter, George," 
said Kate, as they arose from their knees, " this 
chill air will kill you, even if we escape the wild 
beasts." As she spoke, the light of a young 
moon which faintly illumined the depths of the 
wood, enabled her to discover a hollow log lying 
near. Tearing off some branches from the brittle 
hemlock tree, she piled them around the log, in 
such a manner, as to form a sort of penthouse ; 
and, placing George within the more eiFectual 
shelter of the log, she lay down by his side. Worn 
with fatigue, notwithstanding their fears, the chil- 
dren soon fell into a profound sleep ; and the 
beams of the morning sun, shining through the 
branches which formed their covering, first awoke 
them from their peaceful slumbers. 

Their little hearts swelled with gratitude to the 
merciful God, who had preserved them through 
the perils of the night, and the morning hymn which 
was wont to resound within the walls of their 



r ■ o 



13M 



